Sunshine Suits Her
by JA Ingram
Summary: An AU that asks what if Malcolm had taken Felicity in as his ward? How would Tommy's life have changed? Tommy had always been the easy going guy who followed everyone else's lead. He didn't care where he wound up, just that he was along for the ride...until a little Sunshine came into his life and he realized he could be much, much more.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Alice B Toklas Was Here.

Tommy had loved Laurel Lance from the first time he'd laid eyes on her.

There was just something about her, this poise and grace that seemed almost timeless, ageless. He'd never admit this to anyone, not even Ollie (especially not Ollie because he'd never let him live it down), but the first time he saw Laurel he thought about his mom. Not that Laurel and his mother looked anything alike, and not that he was attracted to women who looked like his mother even if they did, but he thought about her in the same way his father thought about his mother before she died. He called Rebecca Merlyn his 'princess' because he said it suited her. When someone, usually some reporter, would ask why, he'd smile and say that to him, she always looked like a young Grace Kelly and that she was his very own fairy tale princess brought to life. That was his best childhood memory of his all too often absent father; Malcolm would come home and immediately enfold Tommy's mother into his arms, bury his nose in her pale gold hair, and whisper, "Hello Princess."

Laurel had the same poise his mother had, the same fluid grace. She moved like a dancer, long legs and lithe limbs and, as a consequence to that, he fell hard.

So hard, he couldn't even bring himself to talk to her.

"This is…so fucking depressing," Ollie said from beside him as he pulled his knit cap over his eyes and rested his head in his folded arms.

"You know what's depressing?" Tommy said sarcastically. "That it's ninety degrees outside and you're wearing that stupid Rasta skull cap."

"I'm hung over," he grumbled without lifting his head.

"You're always hung over; you'd think you'd be used to it by now."

"I should, but I'm not," he said, lifting his head as he inhaled sharply and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Oh man, I feel like shit. What the fuck did I drink last night?"

"What didn't you drink?" He asked dryly, never taking his eyes off Laurel as she and her friends laughed together from across the quad.

"Why aren't you hung over?" He asked, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Because I stuck mostly to weed. Ironic that, of the two, alcohol is legal and yet I'm the one who is still somewhat functional the next morning while you look like hammered dog shit."

"You know, you are totally turning into one of those holier than thou legalize weed douche-bros," he grumped then looked at him curiously, "Got any left?"

"Naw, Jeremy brought it," he told him absently as he watched Laurel squeal and run from her friend as she tossed some ice from her cup at her. "I only got a couple of hits off it anyway. I swear, Jeremy is such a fucking asshole. Whenever I get some X or some blow he's all over my ass for a free hit or a bump, but he won't even part with a single joint." He tossed him a look, "Plus he can't roll for crap. His shit was sad, man."

"Was it any good?" He asked curiously.

"Decent," he admitted. "I'll admit to being pleasantly surprised. It wasn't at all like that ditch weed and schwag he usually carries. You know, not like that brick he tried to pass off on us last time that tasted like it was dried in the microwave next to a frozen burrito; *that* shit sucked so bad I couldn't even get a decent buzz off of it. This new shit though; it was actually pretty smooth, but he still didn't know what to do with it. His mix was off, he didn't grind the bud so there were hard chunks and stalks in it, and his papers were so loose I had to re-roll the spliff. Plus, he didn't even know how to make a roach; instead he figured he could use the filter off a Marley. I wound up having to do a goddamn weed tutorial in the middle of the party only to barely get a hit off it before he wet sucked the shit out of the thing like he was giving it a blowjob. I wasn't about to put it back in my mouth by the time he was done with it."

"Goddamn amateur hour," the other man commiserated.

"I'm telling you, it was a waste of good dank," he agreed shaking his head. "And he used *hemp* paper instead of rice paper; I guess he figured it would add to the high, but all you could taste was the paper! I mean, what the fuck? And we're talking quality fresh green; it was a damn shame! I swear, it was like watching him turn a lady into a whore. I just had to step in and do the chivalrous thing, man. Seriously, Jeremy's smoked enough weed that he should know this shit already."

"Where the hell did Jeremy get decent bud anyway?" He snorted.

"Somebody said he has the hook up with a guy into hydroponics," he smiled as the woman of his dreams chased her friend then began to kiss her on the cheek playfully as the other woman tried to push her away. He caught the look on Ollie's face, "What?"

"I'm almost embarrassed to be seen with you, you know that? This is just…pitiful," he said disgustedly. "You're Tommy fucking Merlyn! Just go ask her out!"

"I will," he said defensively.

"When?"

"Eventually," he muttered.

"You and Caroline have been over for a year! Sack up, dude; it's just Laurel!" He said rolling his eyes. "Just go up to her and tell her you want to hook up, so I don't have to watch you stalk her anymore."

"Hey, first off, that's the mother of my future children you're talking about, not some random hook up, so watch it. Secondly, I'm not stalking her," he said with a frown. "I'm merely observing her from a distance."

"All you need is a white paneled van and a roll of duct tape and you could totally be a stalker," he said flatly.

"That's not a stalker, that's a serial killer; I want to date her not stab her in the shower."

"Not with a knife anyway," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small silver flask then hiding his soda under the table so he could doctor it a little.

"That was both disturbing and highly inappropriate."

"I try," Ollie said, taking a deep drink from the can.

"Getting wasted and it's not even eight in the morning yet; nice," Tommy said arching an eyebrow.

"Hair of the dog. Want some?" He asked, offering him the flask, "Might help give you the courage to actually talk to your future whatever over there."

Tommy looked at the flask before reluctantly reaching for it and taking a quick drink. He made a slight noise of disgust as the warm vodka burned a path down to his stomach then rose to his feet, "Okay, I'm going in." He took a single step in her direction before turning to Ollie who still looked like death warmed over, "Are you coming or what?"

He squinted up at him, "Why do I need to go?"

"Moral support."

"You know, you can be such a girl sometimes," he bitched as he reluctantly rose from the bench. "Next thing you know, you'll want us to hold hands as we go skipping through the wildflowers together like in freaking Little House on the Prairie." Tommy playfully reached for his hand causing Ollie to burst out in a pained laugh, "Fuck, ow! Don't make me laugh, man; seriously."

"I loved Little House," he said in mock sincerity.

Ollie snorted, "Yeah, I know that, asshole. I'm the one who had to watch that shit with you."

"'Had to watch', my ass," he scoffed as they made their way towards the group of girls. "You were all 'I'm gonna marry Laura someday!'"

"Hey, Laura was hot," he deadpanned. "You're the one who was all hung up on the brainy blonde sister, what's her face."

"Mary," he nodded with a slow grin, "Hot, blonde, and tragically struck blind at a young age. It's got it all, man; drama, tragedy, romance, plus she had a job so she could support me if my dad ever did actually cut me off without a dime."

"You are one sick twist, Tommy Merlyn," Ollie chuckled.

"Why yes, yes I am," he said proudly.

As they neared the group, McKenna took one look at the two of them and grinned, "You're holding, aren't you? You guys look totally baked."

"We're not baked," Ollie said, sidling up to her and throwing his arm around her shoulders, "We're drunk, there's a difference."

"I'm still a little baked," Tommy admitted reluctantly.

"Before class even starts; seriously?" Laurel said in disapproval as she glared at Ollie. Sara sidled up to his other side and dug the silver flask from his pocket before taking a quick drink. "Sara!"

"What?" Her younger sister coughed a little before sneaking the flask to McKenna who drank as well before handing it back to Ollie, "You guys are already halfway out of here with one year to go. Meanwhile, I'm still gonna be stuck in this hellhole for another three years."

"Well, you're all going to get expelled if anyone catches you," Laurel said rolling her eyes at them.

"Oh relax," Ollie told her, taking another drink before stuffing it back in his pocket. "You're just worried you won't get to be valedictorian if, God forbid, someone catches you having fun."

"Getting drunk and wasted isn't fun," she said flatly.

"Actually, that's kind of the definition of fun," he returned lazily. "You should try it sometime; might help loosen that stick up your butt."

McKenna and Sara snorted while Laurel continued to shoot him a laser-like glare.

"Not for me, I'm with you; clean living all the way. Gum?" Tommy offered, after popping a couple of pieces in his mouth and chewing.

"No, thank you," she said with a scowl, "And since when do you go for clean living, Tommy Merlyn?"

"Yeah," McKenna grinned as she snatched the gum out of his hand and popped a piece in her mouth as well, "I could have sworn I saw you getting lit at Jeremy's party last night."

"My last hoorah," Tommy said with mock sincerity. "I'm a changed man."

"Right," the other girl said shaking her head.

Laurel, ignoring the rest of them, continued to glare at Ollie, "Seriously, if you get caught with that flask, they'll expel you and you'll blow your chance to get into an Ivy League college."

"Screw college," he said dismissively. "I don't want to go to stupid Harvard anyway. That's my dad's idea, not mine. I want to take a year off and go to Europe so I can expand my mind a little." He turned to Tommy with a quizzical frown, "Amsterdam's in Europe, right?"

"I can't believe you'd just blow off your entire future like that," she said darkly.

"Yeah Ollie, grow up!" Tommy said mockingly as he pasted on a dad-like glower, "You need to learn to take your responsibilities more seriously, young man."

"Damn, Tommy, you sounded just like your old man that time," he said with a hint of genuine praise.

"I've been practicing," he preened.

Sara and McKenna burst out into laughter while Laurel just sighed and shook her head at them, "You two should take your act on the road. Like now and very far down the road where we don't have to hear it."

"You know you love me," Ollie said with a rakish smirk.

"You wish," Laurel said flatly.

"You guys are so married!" McKenna said, pointing between them.

The other girl arched her eyebrow, "Not even."

"Yeah, you totally are," Sara agreed.

"Plus, you two did date a couple of times, right?" McKenna added mischievously. "I'm telling you; in a few years you're totally going to be Mr. and Mrs. Ollie Queen."

"More like Mrs. and Mr. Laurel Lance, 'cause Laurel is totally going to have him whipped by the time she gets done with him," Sara snorted.

"Wait, what?" Tommy said in surprise. He looked over at Ollie with a frown, "When did you two go out?"

"It was nothing," Ollie waved him off.

"Less than nothing," Laurel said in clipped tones.

"It was like a couple of dates last summer when you went to Australia with your old man," he shrugged. "Tell you the truth, it didn't even count as 'dating'; more like we were both at the same party and hung out a little. I'd pretty much forgotten about it until just now."

"Ouch," McKenna said with a wince as Laurel shot him a filthy look of near murderous rage.

"Maybe if you hadn't been drunk off your ass with your tongue down some other girl's throat, you might have remembered," she said icily.

Ollie merely leaned back on his heels, his hands stuck deep in the front pockets of his jeans, and grinned indolently in response, "What can I say? I was bored and eager for…'stimulation' wherever I could find it." He ducked his head a little and muttered under his breath, "God knows I wasn't getting any from you."

"That's because I'm not one of your skanks," Laurel said flatly. "Unlike you and the women you 'date', I actually have some self-respect."

"I had self-respect once," he said with a yawn, "but then I decided to have fun instead."

"I'm going to class," Laurel snapped, grabbing her backpack and turning on her heels, "Not that 'class' is a word you'd be familiar with."

"It's not that I'm unfamiliar with it, it's just that I really don't give a shit," he said, his lazy grin never wavering.

Laurel made an aggravated noise and stomped off, her sister and best friend hurrying to catch up to her.

"Fucking asshole!" Tommy said, punching him in the arm as he watched her stalk away angrily.

"She started it," he said rubbing his arm with a whine.

"Thanks to you I didn't get a chance to ask her out, shit head!"

The bell rang and Ollie sighed, "Dude, seriously, you don't have to ask her out. Brandon's holding an end of the year blow out on Saturday and I know for a fact that she's going along with McKenna; just hook up with her there, man. Shit."

"Oh. Well okay," he said, somewhat mollified. He threw his buddy another look of discontentment, "Hey, why didn't you tell me you hooked up with Laurel over the summer, man? You knew I had a thing for her for a while now."

"Honestly man, I forgot," He said shaking his head. "Seriously, it was just like I said; I showed up someplace and she'd be there, then we'd hang. I never even thought of it as 'dating' but apparently Laurel must have." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I mean, seriously; I may be a douche but if I had known I was on a date, I would've stopped banging Traci Arbogast when she walked in on us and invited her along for the ride."

"Why am I friends with you?" Tommy said, shaking his head in disgust.

"No fucking clue." The second bell rang and Ollie turned to him with a frown, "Ah shit, guess that makes us tardy."

"Yup," he agreed, but made no move to hurry along to class.

"You ever get the digits to Jeremy's DD with the hydro hook up?" Tommy threw him a wry glare. "Sorry man, stupid question." He looked at him curiously, "Wanna go make a run and spend the rest of the day making party favors with me? Brandon put me in charge of the refreshment committee and my normal weed guy has been trying to pass off inferior stock so I'm seriously thinking about cutting him loose."

"Yeah, might as well," he said, already heading towards the parking lot.

"You think he'll let us sample some if we offer to buy some honey butter? Might help with this rager of a headache plus I'm thinking about baking some brownies."

"Dude, again, it's like eight in the morning; show some restraint," Tommy told him as they slipped inside his convertible.

"Feels like 4:20 to me," he said with a grin as they took off.

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It turned out that Jeremy's hook up was an Ag student at Starling Central University who used to date his sister. The guy was a little spookish about selling to them since he only grew for personal use and had a professor who, like Tommy, was a legalize weed fanatic, so he let him grow on the down low as long as he donated the bulk of his crop to the Medical underground. After convincing him that it was a medical emergency by waving a fat wad under his nose, they got a couple of lids and some hash oil for the brownies along with his assurance that should they need his humanitarian services in the future, he'd be willing to contribute to the cause.

After Ollie glanced at the back seat where they had stashed their stash for the umpteenth time, Tommy sighed, "You are not gonna hot box in my ride, man. I like to never get that stink out of the upholstery the last time you did that shit. Besides, you blaze up in here and we get busted while holding, no amount of parental irresponsibility is going to save us from getting our asses pounded by a couple of hard cores in the clink. Quite frankly, I've got no urge to be some leather daddy's bitch today, thanks."

"But Tommy, my head is killing me," he whined. "C'mon man!"

"So go take an aspirin."

"Fine, stop here so I can buy some," Ollie scowled and motioned for him to pull into a supermarket parking lot. "I need to pick up some brownie mix and a carton of Reds anyway. Think they sell papers here?"

"It's the Valley," he said, as if that should be obvious. "No need though; I got plenty at home."

"Hey man, is your dad still out of town?" He asked as they pulled into a spot near the front.

"When isn't he out of town?" He snorted. "What's worse is that the orphan is visiting so that means I'm stuck with her until he remembers we even exist." He paused, "Well, he remembers she exists at least; it's just me he could give a shit about."

"What is she doing here? I thought she was at some boarding school up in Gotham?"

"I don't know," he said darkly. "Daddy dearest suddenly got a bug up his ass about having her around more since I'm heading to college in a couple of years. I'd say it was empty nest syndrome but it's not like he ever cared about being a full-on parental unit in the first place. The only time he ever pulls the dad card is when he's giving me shit over some perceived fuck up or another; then it's like Malcolm thinks he's being father of the freakin' year or something!"

"What's up with the orphan anyway?" Ollie asked, adopting Tommy's nickname for her. "Why's he care about this kid so much?"

"Fuck if I know," he said dismissively. "She's the daughter of an old buddy of his or something so he's taking care of her."

"You sure she's an orphan and not Malcolm's love child from some Vegas cocktail waitress?" He grinned.

Tommy snorted, "Yeah right; he hasn't so much as looked at another woman since my mom died. He's a friggin' robot! Naw, she's his 'ward'."

Ollie's brow furrowed at that, "What the hell's a 'ward'?"

He shrugged noncommittally, "Basically he's her legal guardian."

"So, what? Does that mean she's adopted or his foster kid or what?"

Tommy could understand his confusion. Malcolm Merlyn was definitely not the type of man who enjoyed parenthood so the idea of him adopting or taking in a child from the foster system was a completely alien concept. "No, I don't know the legalese of it all but apparently; her dad was some old college buddy of his and her mom was just some coked up slut who took off and abandoned her. Malcolm was named her guardian in the dead dad's will so he got this wild hair up his ass about taking care of her; said he didn't want her to be put in the system. I guess you could say that he's her legal 'foster-uncle' or some shit, I don't know," he shrugged again. "He manages the trust fund her dad set up for her so the crack mom doesn't blow it on rock and keeps her at that boarding school most of the time. Until lately that is." He twisted in his seat and gave Ollie a belligerent look, "Do you wanna know what that asshole did the other day?"

"What?"

"He gave her my mom's locket; you know the one she always used to wear?" He said angrily, "Then he told her, right in front of me, that my mom would have loved to have her as a daughter and took my baby picture out of it so he could put their wedding photo in it instead like they were having some kind of goddamn father/daughter Hallmark moment! I about threw up right then and there."

Ollie's face reddened in outrage on his behalf, "Didn't your mom leave that to you to give to your future wife or something?"

After Rebecca died and Malcolm subsequently took off to join an ashram in Tibet, Tommy practically slept with that locket every single night so he knew exactly how important it was to him.

"Yeah, he got it out of my room and just gave it to her, just like that!" He said indignantly. "When I called him out on it he said that at the rate I was going I'd probably wind up losing it or giving it to some random floozy so, at least this way, it would 'stay in the family'. Can you believe that shit? Like the orphan is family?"

"That's bullshit, man," his friend said, shaking his head. "Did you get it back from the kid?"

"No," he said gruffly. "When he told her my mom was basically her mom she burst into tears and started blubbering about it so I just let it go." He offered him a wry grimace, "And now he's out of town until Thursday and I'm stuck babysitting the little creeper."

"You know, we should get some payback and have a get together at your place tonight; test drive some of this hydro."

"Didn't you hear what I said, man? I'm on babysitting duty."

"So? Let the nanny or whatever watch her and we'll hang out in the pool house," he said indolently.

He sighed, "Dad didn't hire one this time. He said that we needed to 'bond' or something so I'm stuck with her by myself after our housekeeper leaves."

"She's like, what? Eight?"

"No, I don't know. I know she's older than that, though. I think she's eleven, maybe twelve; something like that," he said morosely.

"Are you sure?" He asked dubiously, "Because she's not that much bigger than Thea and she's only five."

"Shit, I don't know! Maybe she's a midget! All I know is she acts like she's thirty, plus she talks weird and drives me up the friggin' wall."

"Whatever; just send her to bed early," he told her. "We'll party afterwards; she'll never know."

Everything in Tommy screamed that it was a bad idea but he was still pissed that the little creeper was wearing his mom's necklace, not to mention the fact that his dad had screwed up his whole week with this bonding idea crap.

"Okay, but no one can come over until after the staff leaves and she's down for the night. Plus, I gotta warn you, she's kind of hyper," he said with a grimace. "She's some kind of freaky genius so she's constantly walking all over the place and yammering on about random shit."

"So? We'll slip her some Benadryl or something," he shrugged.

"You can't drug her!" Tommy burst out.

"It's just Benadryl!" He scoffed. "I can pick some up when I get the aspirin."

"No, no way," he said firmly. "I may not like having to deal with her, but even I know there are some lines you just do not cross and slipping drugs to a kid in order to knock them out so you can party? Yeah, fuck that. With my luck she'll OD or something and then we'll have to dig a hole and make up a story about how she ran off and joined the circus."

"Fine," Ollie pouted. "You can try feeding her warm milk and cookies or some shit, see if that works."

"Fine," Tommy threw back. "Come on; you get the brownie mix, meanwhile I'm getting some party supplies and snacks."

"Sounds like a plan, my man. Tommy is the man with the plan."

"Fuck you."

"Not unless you woo me first. A girl's got to have some standards."

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"Are you having a party?" Felicity asked as she wandered into the kitchen.

"Yeah, a big party," Ollie snickered, still buzzed from the joint he smoked before the housekeeper left. Now he was busy making a second huge pan of hash brownies while he came down from his high.

"Can I help? I'm a good cook; I even help out in the cafeteria sometimes."

Tommy glanced over at the mousy haired little girl as she peered at him over the counter, her big blue eyes exaggerated by the coke bottle lenses she wore. "No. Go away," he told her as he emptied various bags of chips into different bowls along with salsa and dip.

"Can I come?" She asked hopefully, ignoring his harsh tone.

"It's not a kid kind of party," Tommy told her as he grabbed the two huge bags of plain M&M's and poured them into a bowl as well.

She looked at the bags of groceries filled with various kinds of junk food ranging from Twizzlers and Cheetos to several different kinds of sugary sodas and Red Bull, "Sort of looks like a kid's party to me."

"Well it isn't," he said abruptly then turned to Ollie, "What time did you tell everybody to come over?"

He glanced at the clock, "They should be here in about an hour, hour and a half."

"Okay kid, bed time," Tommy told her.

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him and scowled, "But it's not even seven o'clock and we haven't had dinner yet."

He looked at her askance, "Didn't Mrs. McGregor feed you?"

"No," she said roundly and pointed to the deep pan of chicken and spinach casserole on the counter, "She told you before she left that you were supposed to put that in the oven but your friend decided to make brownies instead, remember?"

"Right," he said with a grimace then sighed, "Hey Ollie, I'm gonna call for pizza; what do you want?"

"The usual," he said absently as he began cutting up the still warm brownies and putting them on a cooling rack.

"Why can't we just have what Mrs. McGregor made?" She asked crestfallen. "She made that special because I told her it was my favorite."

She is so weird, Tommy thought. What kind of kid turns down pizza and asks for chicken spinach casserole instead? "Because I'm not waiting around for that crap to cook when we can have a pizza delivered in thirty minutes or less, so just deal with it."

"Fine," she conceded. "Can I have chicken and spinach on my pizza then? With the white sauce?"

"No," he snorted. "You can eat pepperoni or plain cheese or something like a normal kid instead of a freak." At the expression of hurt on her face he found himself easing up slightly, "Fine, I'll order you some Fettuccini Alfredo instead."

"With broccoli?" She asked perking up slightly.

"You are so weird," he muttered. "But after we eat you're going to your room and staying there. Go watch TV or something, I don't care, but you don't come downstairs," he warned.

"Why can't I come to the party?" She asked.

"I told you why," he said with a note of aggravation. "Keep it up and I'll make you go to bed without dinner altogether."

"Okay," she said in a slightly muted tone.

He reached into his back pocket and gritted his teeth, "Great! I left my phone in the pool house." He looked over to Ollie, "Can you watch the orph—" He stopped himself, "Felicity while I get my phone?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Hey, while you're out there you might want to call McKenna and see if she can get Laurel to come over. Or better yet, you can sack up and call her yourself."

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," he mused.

"What does 'sack up' mean?" Felicity asked with a frown as she climbed up on a barstool to watch Ollie as he poured another box of brownie mix into the stand mixer on the counter.

"It means grow a pair of—"

"Hey!" He said, cutting off Ollie at the pass.

"C'mon man," he said, tossing him a slightly stoned grin. "Even Thea knows what that is and she's five."

"Yeah, well, she's your little sister so she had to grow up fast," Tommy retorted. "The last thing I need to hear from my old man is how I corrupted the one kid he actually likes."

"He likes you," Felicity said softly. "He writes about you in his letters all the time."

"Letters?" Tommy repeated incredulously.

"Yeah," she nodded. "He writes me all the time. He says it's more special than just calling. He even bought me a calligraphy set; want to see? I can show you. I'm actually getting pretty good at it."

"See what I mean?" He said turning to his friend with a grim expression.

"That's just weird," Ollie agreed.

"It's not weird," she said in a hurt tone. "Malcolm says that every young lady should learn to do elegant things like play the piano and use good penmanship. He even said that our—" she bit her lip and looked guiltily at Tommy for a second before dropping her gaze and fingering the locket under her simple white blouse, "He said that Tommy's mom knew how to do all of that stuff when she was my age."

Tommy felt himself do a slow burn, quickly eradicating the last vestiges of the contact high he got from hanging out with Ollie in the pool house earlier. "I'm going to go call Laurel. Stay in here and do what Ollie tells you to, understand?" He said then turned on his heel and left before he said something to make the little freak cry again.

The other day after Malcolm gave her his mom's locket they had gotten into it in front of her. Harsh words were spoken on both sides ending with him saying some rather unkind things about the fact that Felicity wasn't his real kid, just some crack orphan he decided to take on as a hobby. It ended with Felicity running out of the room in tears and his dad shoving him against the wall, angrier than he'd ever seen him before, and that was saying a lot. He made him go upstairs to apologize to her only to have the kid apologize to him instead and hand him back the locket. Then she said she'd go downstairs and ask Malcolm to send her back to school if he didn't want her there. When he pointed out how stupid that was since the school was already out for summer break, she said she was thinking of going to computer camp and thought that maybe the headmistress would let her stay over for a couple of weeks until it started. She even said she was used to it since last year, when Malcolm was out of the country and he went skiing with the Queen's over in Big Bear; she stayed at the school and did extra coursework instead.

That made the knife twist in his gut and then she had to go and add to it by smiling and pointing out that it was okay because it meant she could get a head start on the new semester and, besides, she was Jewish so Christmas wasn't really that big of a deal to her.

After that he couldn't even look her in the eye so he told her to keep the locket and that it was okay if she stayed. That is until Malcolm decided to 'let the punishment fit the crime' and decided to put him on babysitting duty so they could 'bond'.

Shaking off his foul mood, he found his phone and, after he called and ordered a ton of pizzas, he called Laurel.

It took a few minutes of stumbling and awkward speech but, before long, they were actually having a pretty interesting conversation. He invited her over but she opted out. She did say however, that she was definitely planning on going to Brandon's that weekend and maybe they'd see each other then. It wasn't a 'date' date, more of an 'I'll be there and so will you' kind of thing, but it was close enough as far as he was concerned. By the time he got off the phone he realized that he'd been talking for almost an hour and not only would people be arriving soon, but the pizzas he ordered had been delivered and had probably already gone cold.

At that moment however, he couldn't have cared less. Even if all there was left was some congealed cheese stuck to the cardboard, nothing could bring him down now that he knew he was one step closer to bagging his dream girl.

"Tommy! Get in here quick! Help!"

He stepped into house through the back door, mouth already open to crow over this auspicious change of events when he heard Ollie calling out to him in an almost frantic tone.

He rushed into the kitchen to see Felicity clutching at her throat and gasping as she turned red and began to sway slightly. Ollie was freaking out, practically in tears, his eyes locked on hers, "Tommy! Tommy, help!"

"Is she choking?" He asked reaching for her and patting her on the back.

She was breathing in harsh pants and in a cold sweat, while Ollie's pupils were blown from the pot brownies and panic, "No! I don't know!" He said, running both his hands through his hair frantically.

"Tommy…" Felicity gasped, "I don't…feel good. My lips…feel numb…and I think…going to…vomit."

Tommy, confused and terrified, looked around, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. He'd only been gone—

And that's when he saw it. Lying on the plate next to Felicity's half eaten pasta, was a brownie.

"Motherfucker!" He shouted, curling up his fist and laying Ollie out with one punch. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He bellowed in the fallen man's face as he gazed up at him in shock, "You fed her a hash brownie? She's fucking twelve, you asshole! How'd you like if I did something like that to Thea?"

"Whoa!" Ollie said from the floor, the force of the hit along with the shock making him go from stoned to stone cold sober in an instant, "I did *not* feed her one of the brownies I made for the party! That was a batch of plain ones I made in case Laurel decided to show!"

"Then what the hell did you do to her?" He yelled.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!"

Felicity stumbled off the chair and fell to her knees then began to stagger to her feet.

"Whoa," he said grabbing her.

"E-epi—" was all she got out.

Tommy looked over at the brownie again, his eyes going wide, "Oh shit! Did you put nuts in the brownies?"

"Yeah, but Laurel's not allergic to nuts," he said blankly, scrambling to his feet and still rubbing his rapidly swelling jaw.

"But Felicity is, dumb ass!" He shot back.

"You didn't tell me that!" Ollie returned angrily.

"I—I forgot!" His heart clenched in fear, "What do we do? Do we call an ambulance?"

"I don't know!" The other man said swallowing. "Hang on!" He said then rushed out of the kitchen.

"Epi-" Felicity took in a wheezing breath, "Epi…Epi-pen."

"Where?" Tommy asked her.

She pointed to the cupboard near the sink where their housekeeper always stored Felicity's special 'nut-free' snacks. He snatched one of the boxes containing the EpiPen Jr's and looked at it in wide-eyed confusion, "How—what do I-?"

Felicity pulled up the hem of her tartan plaid skirt and pointed to her thigh wordlessly. Without even stopping to think about it, he ripped open the box, allowed the needle to hover over her outer thigh for just a split second, before plunging it in, causing her to cry out and whimper slightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over as tears of fear and pain rolled down her bright red cheeks. "Now what? Do I do it again?"

She shook her head, "Not—yet…" She began to rub her thigh and he remembered dimly the instructions their housekeeper had given him a while back on what to do if she ever had a reaction.

Pushing her hands out of the way, he began to massage the injection site.

"Hey, I got the—what are you doing?" Ollie said looking at him askance, a bright pink box held in one hand as he stood next to them.

"What is that?" He said, nodding to the box and ignoring the question.

"Benadryl."

"I told you *not* to buy the Benadryl!" He said sharply.

"It's kid's Benadryl," he said defensively, "See?" He said, pointing to the box, "Bubblegum favor. Besides, aren't you glad I bought it now?"

"Yeah, okay," he said with a tremor in his voice. "Felicity, can you take Benadryl with the Epi shot?"

She nodded, "Last…time I had a reaction, the…school nurse gave me some," she said, still slightly breathless but he could tell she was already improving.

"Okay, give her some," Tommy told him, still massaging her thigh.

"Hang on, I'm reading the damn box!" He snapped. "Why do they have to make the goddamn print so tiny?"

Tommy snatched the glasses off of Felicity's face, ignoring her noise of protest as he did so, and shoved them at him, "Here!"

"I don't-!" Ollie began but then looked through the lenses at the dosing indications, "Oh, okay, that helped." He tore open the box and filled the tiny cup full of a viscous pink fluid. "Here."

Felicity took it from him and drank it down, pulling a face as she did so and shuddering in distaste, "Sure doesn't taste like gum." She gasped out but her breath was no longer wheezing and he began to relax a little.

"Okay, we should take her to the hospital now just to be safe," Tommy said, his heart still racing slightly.

"No!" Felicity said quickly, placing her hand on his arm as he reached for his phone.

"Felicity-!"

"No," she said, shaking her head as her cheeks began to go from bright red to dark pink. "You'll get in trouble. Besides, I feel better now, honest."

Tommy started to object but Ollie stopped him, "She's right, man. If your dad finds out, he's going to go ballistic."

"He'll be even more pissed if she dies," he scowled.

"I won't die," she promised, her eyelids beginning to droop slightly.

He took in a shuddering breath and picked her up. She hardly weighed anything, maybe seventy pounds, if that, as she was small for her age. The first time he met Felicity he thought she was much younger than she was until Mrs. McGregor told him in confidence that the 'puir wee moppet,' as she referred to her, had been born severely premature but that she'd catch up eventually. Even so, she was still on the small end of normal so he figured her mother must have been petite as well; not that he'd ever met her. Supposedly the woman was still alive somewhere but, as far as he knew, she'd never so much as visited the kid either here or at the elite private boarding school Malcolm sent her to in Gotham.

She immediately threaded her arms around him and buried her tiny face into his neck which was now sticky with panic sweat. Tommy unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture, the other supporting her in his arms as he turned to his buddy who was still dazed and looking more than a little scared shitless himself. "I'm going to go put her to bed. Can you call everybody and tell them the party's off?"

Ollie glanced at the clock and started to say something then swallowed, "Yeah, sure; are we still taking her to the hospital or what?"

"I don't know," he said, feeling torn. Felicity burrowed herself deeper into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, "Not…not yet," he decided at last. "I'll watch her and if she looks like she needs to go, we'll take her."

"Tommy, I'm sleepy," she mumbled against him.

"I know, sunshine," he said back quietly using his dad's nickname for her and causing her to make a happy noise as she began to drift into a light doze. He looked at Ollie and the mess that surrounded them, "Can you handle getting rid of the-?" He lifted his chin and nodded at the trays and trays of hash brownies. "Just in case. If we do have to call an ambulance, I don't want anyone finding them."

"Yeah sure," he said ruefully.

"Thanks," he said before exiting the kitchen and taking her upstairs to her room.

Her room was another point of contention between him and his dad. Before, when Felicity was just some kid he never really saw, he didn't care about her or what his dad did as far as she was concerned. That is until Malcolm started bringing her home whenever he would join the Queen's on their family vacations until, one day, he came home to find out that he had turned the empty room across from his into 'her' room. He'd even had it professionally decorated.

The entire room looked like something out of a magazine. The walls were painted with bright concentric circles in purple, lime green, deep pink, burgundy, and blue on a pale lavender background that extended throughout the room including the gabled ceiling and carpet. There was also an accent wall done in a darker shade of lavender with a huge mural of a flower silhouette and a funky looking chandelier hung from the ceiling like a weirdly shaped flower. Her queen sized bed sat low to the ground on a brightly upholstered striped base that matched her bedding and made the already large room look even bigger.

Between all that and the large stuffed animals that cluttered the various surfaces, it looked like every tween-age girl's fantasy bedroom and, frankly, it was a hell of a lot nicer than his. She even had a better view of the grounds from her large floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the garden and opened to the third floor balcony. He even got her a huge flat screen to go on the accent wall next to her bed and a state of the art computer was sitting out on the desk that was tucked into the corner.

The last person to decorate *his* bedroom was himself and all that involved was tacking a couple of centerfolds on the wall which were both promptly removed and tossed, most likely by the ubiquitous Mrs. McGregor. In fact, he was sure of it. For two weeks afterwards, every time she'd look at him, she'd suck on her front teeth in a hissing sound and make the sign of the cross as she muttered, "Och! Ah'm pure scunnurt o'er tha boy. Saint's preserve us!"

He put her down on her bed and she mumbled, "I need my nightie."

"Right," he said, turning to the dresser and grabbing a white cotton and lace gown and handing it to her.

She got shakily to her feet and walked into the bathroom to change leaving him to stand helplessly outside the door. Time seemed to slow as he watched the clock, his heart thudding out of his chest as the seconds ticked by.

Maybe I should have gone in with her? He thought after he could no longer hear the water running or her feet as they slapped lightly against the tiles. She might have been in there for all of five minutes but it felt like hours given his already strained state. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, he reached for the door to the bathroom only to have her stumble out sleepily instead. She swayed on her feet as he led her to the bed then pulled down her duvet so she could fall face first onto the soft mattress with an almost comical 'thump'. He straightened her in the bed and tucked the covers around her, "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want some water or something?"

She shook her head without opening her eyes, "Tommy?" She slurred.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me?" She asked him in a faraway tone. "I don't want to be by myself."

"Okay," he said, kicking off his shoes and lying down in the bed beside her without thinking twice about it. To tell the truth, he was kind of glad she asked because as soon as he did she curled up beside him to lay her head on his chest. He could feel her breathing even out as her heart thudded reassuringly against his side. He wrapped his arm around her then pulled her a little closer, his own heart rate slowing to match hers.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Sorry for what?" He asked, switching off the bedside lamp to darken the room.

"I ruined your party," she whispered.

"It's okay," he told her with a sigh. Maybe it's just as well Laurel didn't come after all. Her seeing him and Oliver nearly getting his…whatever Felicity was, killed would have definitely doomed whatever chance he had of ever being with her.

"You should go have fun. I'll be okay," she yawned.

"Shut up," he said, not unkindly. "Besides, I'm tired and your bed is softer than mine anyway."

She wrinkled her nose, "Plus, your room smells kind of funny; like hamster food and feet."

He frowned, bending his head to look down at her, "When were you in my room?"

She cracked her eyes open, "Um, never?"

"Go to sleep," he said gruffly.

"Night night, Tommy."

"'Night," he mumbled back, shutting his eyes as well.

A while later the door to Felicity's room opened and Tommy opened his eyes slowly, not even realizing he'd drifted asleep.

"Hey, is she okay?" Ollie asked quietly from the doorway, holding up her glasses awkwardly.

He nodded to the dresser and watched as Ollie put them down next to the cut crystal music box Malcolm gave her. "Yeah," he said in a near whisper. "I think so but I'll probably stay with her just in case."

"Do you need me to stay, too? I can call my mom-?"

"No man, it's cool. I think I got it."

He nodded and entered the room fully, "Look bro, I'm really sorry…"

"It's okay, you didn't know," Tommy assured him. "It was my fault for not telling you about the nut thing in the first place. And, since we're apologizing, I'm sorry for punching you like that. That was way the fu-" he glanced at the sleeping girl and cleared his throat, "It was over the line and I'm sorry."

"No, that's okay," he told him. "I mean, you were right; if someone did what you thought I did to my little sister, I would have laid them out, too. This whole thing is my fault. I should have never been baking those kinds of brownies in front of your—" he frowned, looking at her uncertainly, "uh, *her* like that. I definitely shouldn't have been getting buzzed right in front of her."

"Yeah, well, that was kind of both our faults," he admitted. "And I shouldn't have shuffled her off on you while I snuck off to call Laurel like that."

"How'd that go anyway?" He asked, ambling into the room further to sit at the end of the bed.

"Pretty good, I think," he said, adjusting Felicity against him slightly so he could lie propped up against the pillows as they talked. "She said she'll be at Brandon's so I'll see her there."

"Excellent," he grinned and nodded. His eyes then swept through the darkened room, "Damn, her room really is nicer than yours."

"I know, right?"

"Is that a flat screen?" He asked, pointing to the far wall.

"Yeah," he said with a grimace. "She doesn't even watch it either. The only time she ever watches TV is with my dad and then all she watches is old musicals and sci-fi movies."

"That's big. What is that thing; eighty inches? Think she'd let us watch the game in here sometime?" He asked hopefully.

"If you want to watch the game I've got a TV in my room, too, you know," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but your room stinks of old bong water and the sweat socks you've been using as your girlfriend ever since Caroline dumped you," he said with a note of disgust. "How come the maids don't clean up in there anymore?"

"Mrs. McGregor found my porn stash and said that she won't let any of the maids back in there until I get the 'devil's work' out from under my bed," he said mournfully then glanced at Felicity. "Fine," he said with a sigh, "I'll ask her about the game thing tomorrow."

"Cool," he said getting up off the bed. "Oh, and by the way, I put up all the food and loaded the dishwasher, plus I took the regular brownies she ate out to the trash just in case. I didn't know how this allergy thing worked and I didn't want to just leave them out in the open like that."

"You cleaned the kitchen?" Tommy asked incredulously.

"What can I say; I was highly motivated," he shrugged. "I figured that if we did have to call an ambulance that the cops would come and then, well…"

"Good thinking," he agreed. "And thanks."

"No problem. Hey, mind if I borrow your car? We left mine back at school. I figured I'd stop by early and pick you up."

"Yeah," he nodded. "See you in the morning, man."

"Night, bro," he said as he made his way to the door.

"Night," he said. As soon as the door shut, Tommy adjusted the pillows and rolled onto his side, bringing the little girl closer to his chest, then slept.

°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸,ø¤°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸

The next morning he got a ten minute lecture from Mrs. McGregor on the perils of feeding Felicity junk food along with a warm pat on the cheek for cleaning up afterwards and showing how responsible he could be if he just put his mind to it.

He didn't argue, especially when he came home to find his room clean and free of bong water stink and crusty sweat socks. Best of all, Felicity never said a word.

After that he never referred to her as 'the orphan' again, he just called her 'sunshine'. When his dad came home and asked why, he just shrugged and said it suited her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Platonic Life Bros

He stopped smoking pot after the incident with Felicity and the (almost) hash brownie thing. It wasn't really a conscious decision, it just kind of happened. After school he came home to a room that smelled and looked better than it had in months because Mrs. McGregor finally let the maids back in after she (mistakenly) decided to reward him for showing some 'responsibility' when she saw evidence by way of the seven mostly uneaten pizzas, the large aluminum take-out pan of pasta, and the many plastic containers of various kinds of dips, chips, and candy, that he had fed Felicity (even though she scolded him because it was a ridiculous amount of junk food). She was also floored to find that when she came to work the countertops had all been wiped down and they had loaded the dishwasher (even though Ollie forgot to actually turn it on). He didn't feel the slightest tug of guilt over it either, even though he was being rewarded under false pretenses since Ollie was the one who cleaned, not him, and the only reason he had cleaned the kitchen in the first place was because they'd nearly killed Felicity while cooking hash brownies. However, as far as he, Felicity, and Ollie were concerned, no one needed to know about that but them.

He went to bed that night, slipping into clean (!) sheets and breathing in air that smelled of pine sol and clean linens instead of stale bong water and various other biologically based odors, only to have his sleep interrupted a short while later when Felicity snuck in his room and crawled into his bed with him. He woke up confused as he felt her lay her little head against his chest just like she had the previous night when she'd been sick following a severe allergic reaction to nuts.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled in confusion as she snuggled close, trembling slightly.

"I had a bad dream," she whispered.

"Okay, so why're you in my bed?" He asked groggily.

"Because my room is scary right now."

"Oh. Okay," he muttered then fell back asleep again.

Thus marked the second time they'd awoken to the sight of Mrs. McGregor standing over them with a beatific grin on her face as she gushed on about how precious her 'two wee bairns' looked as they were all 'cuddled together like angels in the sweet Baby Jesus's arms'.

Yeah, well, considering that he was sixteen, not six, it was kind of hard to appreciate the 'wee bairns' part but it did score them some fresh blueberry pancakes for breakfast and, he had to admit, the little creeper was starting to grow on him.

The next night when he was startled awake by Felicity crawling into his bed he didn't even bother asking why she was there, he just tucked her close and went back to sleep. After that though, it became fairly obvious that this was going to become a habit so he began to reassess a few things. The first thing he did was take down all his black light posters depicting skulls and half naked hot zombie chicks because they scared Felicity. He also took down his cannabis posters because, even though she probably didn't know what the spiky leaves represented (Mrs. Mack just thought he was just interested in gardening), he didn't feel comfortable with her being around that stuff. He even packed up his collection of porn mags, adult DVDs, bongs, and other less than kid friendly paraphernalia, and handed it off to Ollie thinking he'd come back for it eventually, but he never did.

By the time his dad got back into town, he had pretty much accepted the fact that the little girl was planning on being in his bed every night until she had to go back to school in Gotham. And, truth be told, even though he probably should've been a little disturbed by it, he kind of liked having someone dependent on him for a change.

"Och!" Mrs. Mack exclaimed suddenly, "Tommy Merlyn, I ought to skelp yuir wee behind! You're a right clatty!"

He and Felicity both looked up wide-eyed from their breakfast, "Huh?"

"Yuir shirt!" She said in her heavy Scottish brogue. "You've dripped syrup all over it! You cannae go ta school with a manky shirt on, go upstairs and put on a fresh one right now before yuir father sees ya lookin' like the dog's dinner!"

"But I'm not done with my pancakes yet and, besides, It's the last day before summer vacation anyway," he said with a frown. "I could go naked and they wouldn't care. All we do on the last day is watch movies and go to some stupid end of the year assembly thing."

Not quite, he admitted silently. His dad had donated a buttload of money to the school along with the Queen's to build a new library so he and Ollie were going to have to sit up on the stage looking like a couple of assholes while their dads gave stirring speeches about the importance of a good education or some shit.

"Don't you be haverin' ta me, Tommy Merlyn. Now up the stairs with ye or I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!" She said with a hard look, her hands on her wide hips and a stubborn set to her jaw.

"What's she saying?" Felicity whispered to him as the housekeeper turned away with a huff and went back to cooking his father's breakfast.

"I don't know," he muttered, "Usually I just nod like I'm agreeing with whatever she's saying then wait for her to call me an idiot and walk away."

"And that works?" She asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Most of the time," he admitted as he got up from his chair reluctantly, giving the fluffy buttermilk pancakes that were swimming in warm maple syrup one last longing look.

"I'll fix ye fresh," she scolded again. "Now off with ya!"

Tommy left the table and walked out of the kitchen to head up to his room. He noticed Felicity following him and stopped, "Where are you going?"

"Upstairs," she told him.

"Why?"

"To help you pick out a shirt."

"Why?"

"Because you have no taste."

"I have taste!" He objected.

"You were going to pick out a t-shirt, probably something with a naked girl or a rock band on it; maybe both." It wasn't a question.

He opened his mouth to object but she was kind of right. Instead he said, "Yeah, well, it's going to be hot and we're going to be outside so I figured-"

"The last letter Malcolm sent said you had to wear a button down shirt with a collar and a tie," she told him patiently.

"I'm not wearing a tie."

"You have to wear a tie."

He scowled down at her, "But I don't want to wear a tie."

"You have to wear a tie," she repeated. "You can wear a t-shirt under it then take them off in the car afterwards."

Again, it was hard to argue with that. "Are you sure you're twelve?"

"I'm going to be thirteen soon."

"Fair enough," he grumbled then led her up the stairs. "You know, I'd swear Dad was using this library thing to bribe somebody if it weren't for the fact that he hasn't brought up military school once. Usually when I screw up as badly as I was sure I did this year, he's all, 'Maybe military school will teach you some discipline and maturity, young man!'" He said mockingly, "But nope, not a word. Ollie hasn't said anything, but given the fact that he went to only half his classes this year, I'm pretty sure he's planning on staying in high school forever."

"Do you want to stay in high school forever?" She asked dubiously.

"Not really," he said, pausing on the staircase. "I imagine it'd be kinda hard to get into a good frat so we can pick up hot college chicks unless we graduate eventually."

Felicity closed her eyes and hung her head slightly, "How is it that you're the one who's supposed to be taking care of me and not the other way around?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," he told her off-handedly. They got to his room and she immediately bypassed him and went to his closet while he sat down on the bed. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of surprised I passed this year at all. I mean, we don't even have to go to summer school or anything—not that we would have," he said with a wry grimace. "I didn't even go to half my classes during the regular school year and I know Ollie didn't. How we both managed to pass all our exams and come out with a 3.8 GPA is beyond me." He stared up at the ceiling musingly, "Huh, do you think that maybe I'm a genius too and I just never noticed because I was too busy partying?"

"Uh, maybe," Felicity said with a furtive look as she handed him his shirt and tie.

He laid them down on the bed and went to his dresser to pick out a t-shirt to wear under them, "I mean, between you and me, I didn't even read half the questions on the finals; I just filled in the dots randomly." He snorted as he pulled off the sticky shirt he was wearing and slipped on the Guns N Roses Chinese Democracy World Tour t-shirt that he knew would either make Ollie laugh his ass off or bitch nonstop for an hour since it was the tour that barely happened.

They had to wait for four hours in their seats for the concert to start, then Axl not only forgot what city they were in but didn't play anything from the 'new' album. Instead, if you closed your eyes, it could have been the 1987 Appetite for Destruction tour. Seriously, it started off with "Welcome to the Jungle," which was kind of cool, then "Paradise City" which was okay, but by the time they were on "Sweet Child O' Mine," it was starting to get a bit old. When "Mr. Brownstone" started to play, Ollie got pissed and hurled one of the beers they snuck in up at Axl, which he picked it up and hurled back, while calling Ollie every kind of motherfucker and then some. Ollie shouted bring back 'Bring back Slash because you guys suck without him!' to a bunch of catcalls which pissed off Buckethead who put his guitar down and did some nunchuk shit, threatening to jump off the stage and kick both of their asses then, before they knew it, they had a riot on their hands. There was fire and sparks, lasers and smoke, the entire band was threatening to walk off stage amid a bunch of pissed off fans booing and cursing, and they barely got out of there alive, but despite all that, it was a truly epic night.

He grinned at the memory then turned to Felicity who was biting her lip and fidgeting slightly, "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, "Here."

"I thought Malcolm was going to pass out when my report card came in the mail," he snorted as he slipped on the shirt and began to button it. "I can only imagine what Ollie's parents said." He stopped with a frown, "Actually, I don't even remember Ollie taking his midterms at all. In fact, I distinctly remember being pissed because I showed up for class while he took off to Guadalajara for a week." He looked at her quizzically, "Is it even mathematically possible to get a 3.8 GPA if you don't take the midterms much less the finals?"

"Maybe he took make-up exams?" She offered.

He thought about that, "Naw, he would've told me. Besides, he was kind of proud of the fact that he skipped them."

"Maybe he lied because he was embarrassed?" She shrugged.

"Maybe," he conceded. He took the tie from her and moved to the full length mirror beside his closet. He struggled to tie it before scowling, "I still don't see why I have to wear a stupid tie; no one is going to give a crap about it anyway! I mean it's the last friggin' day; it totally blows that I have to go at all."

"Mrs. Mack said there were going to be reporters and photographers and stuff, that's why. Here," Felicity got up from the bed and walked up to him, then led him to the chair by his desk to sit. As soon as he was seated she narrowed her eyes, her tongue poking out between her teeth, and started tying his tie for him.

"Well, isn't this adorable?" Malcolm said from the doorway with a grin.

"Hi Malcolm!" Felicity said brightly as she turned to grin at him.

"Hi there, sunshine," he told her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair and motioned for Tommy to get up. "Now pay attention," he told Tommy as he began to tie a perfect Windsor knot. When he was done he winked at Felicity who was watching in rapt fascination.

"Can I try?" She asked.

"Sure," Malcolm said, undoing his own tie to sit on the end of the bed so she could practice. Tommy walked over to the mirror and watched them in the reflection as Felicity slowly began to mimic the process his dad had showed her. When she was done he gave her another wink which caused her to light up with pleasure, "Very good, sweetheart. That was perfect."

"Thank you," she flushed and Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you go downstairs and tell Mrs. McGregor we'll be down in a minute," he told her.

"Okay."

She turned to leave the room and Malcolm stopped her, "Oh, and after you tell her you need to hurry up and get dressed. We need to be at the school in less than an hour."

Felicity looked down at the simple denim skirt and pink butterfly t-shirt she was wearing and flushed again, "Oh."

"What's wrong?" Malcolm asked her with a frown.

Felicity looked at him then his dad nervously, "I didn't know I was invited, I figured it was just going to be you guys going."

"Why would you think that?" He asked her in confusion.

"Because when I asked Mrs. Mack if she was going she said it was just for family," she said quietly.

Tommy didn't even have to wait for his dad to say something, "Exactly, so you better hurry up and get dressed because if I have to wear a stupid tie in ninety degree heat for the next four hours then you have to suffer along with the rest of us."

She lit up like it was Christmas morning and began to grin from ear to ear, "Okay! I'll go tell Mrs. Mack then meet you guys downstairs!"

Malcolm watched as she practically skipped out of the room before turning to Tommy, "That was really nice of you, son. Thank you."

"It's no big deal," he muttered as he avoided making eye contact. Having Malcolm thank him for anything was frankly disconcerting.

"Speaking of Felicity," Malcolm took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his knees before speaking, "I talked to Mrs. McGregor..."

Tommy looked at him warily, "Yeah?"

He nodded, "She told me that in addition to the amazing turnaround you've done with your grades this year, you've really been stepping up to the plate when it comes to her."

"She said that?" He said in mild disbelief.

He nodded again, "I know…" he sighed, his countenance falling slightly as he gave him an apologetic look, "I know I've made a lot of mistakes with you and I wasn't there the way I should have been. I wasn't…I wasn't the best father." Tommy almost said something rather unkind at that but held his tongue, "And I know that when I brought Felicity into our home you weren't happy about that, but I want you to know how much I appreciate all you've done with her and that I'm very proud of you."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask 'Really?' but he held off. Instead, he merely said, "Thanks, dad."

He arose from the end of the bed, "She writes to me about you all the time, you know."

"Yeah, she mentioned you two were pen pals," Tommy said furrowing his brow. "What's up with that anyway?"

Malcolm rubbed her back of his neck and offered him a small upturn of his lips, "It's just…something we do," he offered up. "I wish I had thought to do something like that with you when you were younger."

"I wish you had, too," he admitted quietly, then added in a stronger voice, "Then again, I probably would have never gotten around to writing you back after the first couple of times."

Malcolm chuckled, "Yes, well, you were always restless, kind of like me; always on the move. Felicity though, she's…different."

"Yeah, I noticed," he said dryly.

"She's brilliant though; a true prodigy," he said with a hint of pride. "Actually, the writing thing came about because she had gotten into trouble at her last school."

He snorted, "Felicity? What did she do? Throw off the Bell curve or something and piss off all the other parents?"

He shook his head, "She used the school's computer to hack into the FBI database to try to locate her mother after she took off and didn't come home."

Tommy's jaw dropped, "Seriously? She's twelve!"

"At the time though she was only seven."

"Holy crap," he said flatly.

His eyebrows lifted slightly as if agreeing with the sentiment, "It turned out for the best though. If she hadn't done it and gotten caught then the FBI wouldn't have investigated and contacted me. She would have just entered the system or worse, and I would have never known about her."

"Wait, so her mom just left her?" He asked. "I mean, I knew she took off but I didn't think…" He frowned, his voice trailing off. The truth was, he never really even thought about the logistics of it all; he never even thought to ask. He was always so caught up with his own thing and chasing after Ollie that she barely even crossed his mind.

"I don't know all of it because Felicity never really talked about it and the social workers couldn't get her to talk to them either, but I don't think it was the first time she'd been left on her own," he told him confidentially. "Donna, as you know, had a drug problem and would often go on binges, or so I was led to believe. I'd never actually met her but, from what they were able to find out, it was fairly obvious that Felicity was used to fending for herself by that time."

He blanched, "At seven?"

He nodded sadly and sighed, "They suspect Donna was gone at least a month, possibly longer, by the time Felicity tried to find her. She was still going to school every day but when social services investigated they found out from an older neighbor that Felicity had been asking her to help her with her laundry and a local shopkeeper said she'd been coming in regularly to use foodstamps to buy readymade pizzas for her dinners since there was no food in the house."

Tommy felt his heart sink. No wonder she hadn't wanted pizza if that's all she had to eat as a kid, "You never told me about that."

"You never seemed that interested in her before," then added, "Until recently anyway."

He shifted his weight slightly, "Yeah, well, the little creeper is growing on me, what can I say?"

He offered him a crooked grin, "She does have a habit of doing that," he agreed. "Anyway, the writing thing was my way of giving her something to focus on besides computers at first, but after a while it became somewhat therapeutic for me as well. It really made me reflect back on how I came up short as a father, all the opportunities I missed with you." He took a step towards him, "Son, I know…" he paused, "I know I made a lot of mistakes and maybe I didn't handle bringing Felicity into our lives the way you might have wanted me to, but I'm glad you aren't holding my faults against her." His eyebrows drew down in a look of mild concern, "I worry that she's so isolated at that school sometimes."

He looked at him uncertainly, "I'm…sure she's fine."

"You're probably right," Malcolm said glancing up at him, although his expression didn't change.

"What?" He asked, seeing the furtive look in his eyes.

He made a noncommittal noise, "Never mind, it's nothing."

"No, what were you going to say?"

Malcolm seemed to hesitate for a moment, "I was thinking about sending Felicity away for the summer to a school for gifted children with abilities similar to hers. It's basically a technical program that lasts all summer long up in Princeton where child prodigies like her are tested and studied."

"Wait, studied?" For some reason the idea of Felicity being studied bothered him. "Like summer school or…?"

"It's a lot more involved than that. They put them through a series of psychological tests while offering a highly rigid and challenging academic program that explores the limits of their abilities. It's done in conjunction with Princeton's Psychology department and the kids are studied and the results published in various medical and science journals." Malcolm stared off to some distant point, "I was approached by the director of the Institute some time ago about enrolling her but I turned them down…at least at first. I thought about keeping her with us this summer instead."

Something about that just sounded…creepy, "Why'd you change your mind?"

He shrugged, "You got upset the other day about her being here and I'm going to have to go away on business again soon, plus you usually spend the summer with Ollie and I knew you wouldn't want to change your plans-"

"Wait, so you were going to send her away because of me?" He asked, suddenly feeling guilty.

Malcolm didn't answer him, instead he said, "I suppose it was just me doing like you said and using her to make up for the mistakes I made with you." He exhaled roughly, "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm going to be in town until next week then I'll take Felicity back east with me on Thursday."

"She's only been here a few days and you're already sending her away?" He asked accusingly.

"What else can I do?" He asked helplessly.

"I don't know but-! Why are you telling me this anyway?" he asked with a hint of anger.

Malcolm's lips thinned but the look in his eyes held a note of apology, "I'm not trying to manipulate you, son. I'm just trying to thank you for being nice to her, that's all and making her feel like she's a real member of this family." A look of profound sadness came over him, "It's just…sometimes I think I'm failing her just like I did you. In fact, I know I am. From what Mrs. McGregor told me you've taken better care of her in a week than I ever have with either of you. I don't know, I guess, in a weird way, I thought maybe you could tell me whether or not I was about to make another mistake since you know what it's like to be in her shoes."

"Dad…" he breathed.

He shook his head slightly, his expression brightening, "You know what; we really shouldn't even be talking about this right now. It's getting late, and Felicity will be fine at that school; she's used to being on her own. In fact, she'll probably enjoy herself more there than she ever would staying here with us."

"You're going to make her go to genius camp for the entire summer?" He asked incredulously. "Dad, no kid, even a kid like her, would rather spend their entire summer break at school than at home! That's just nuts!"

"Like you said, Felicity's different," he reasoned. "She's highly independent for one thing, and she might be twelve but she's more mature than most twenty-five year olds."

"She's still just a little kid though," he said stubbornly.

"I realize that, but-"

"But nothing!" He said, cutting him off. "You can't send her to that place, dad."

"Tommy, I have no less than three business trips scheduled next month alone and I can't keep relying on you to help take up my slack," he said in a slightly patronizing manner. "It's bad enough I made you watch her for the last week although I am happy you two are getting along so well as a result."

"If this is about me and whether I'm willing to help out, then that should be my choice, not yours!" He said angrily.

"So…" he looked at him askance, "Are you saying that you want her to stay?"

"Yeah, of course," he said gruffly. "I mean, I'm not going to be the one to say she has to go to a place like that; that's bullcrap!"

"You realize what that would mean?" He asked him, "You'd have to watch her on the nights that I'm not here, spend time with her, you wouldn't be able to take off with the Queen's on the yacht like you usually do-"

"I can handle that," he blustered. "And, besides, I don't even like going on that stupid yacht anyway; I just go to hang out with Ollie! He can deal with going alone for a few weeks; all he does is bitch and wine about how bored he is anyway."

"I don't know," Malcolm said uncertainly. "I mean, don't get me wrong; you've done a great job with her over the last few days, son, but taking care of a child Felicity's age is a lot of responsibility; even one as intellectually advanced as she is."

"So?" He challenged. "I already know all that."

"Well…" he looked at him with a grimace, "Not to take away from what you've done, but until recently, being responsible isn't something you've ever shown an affinity for. Not that I've shown all that much myself-"

"I can be plenty responsible," he said taking umbrage. "I've been there for her all week and she's still alive, isn't she?"

Again, he chose not to include the near death by brownie incident.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, giving him one more chance to back out.

"Yeah," he said firmly. "She should stay here with us."

"Okay, if you're sure," he agreed with a note of respect.

"Thank you," Tommy said, letting out a pent up breath.

"Another thing," Malcolm said slowly. "At the breaking ground ceremony for the library…"

"What?" He frowned.

"Well, you know we're naming the library for your mother so I was thinking that, instead of Moira handling the shovel, maybe you…" he shrugged, "I mean, only if you want to."

"You want me to help dedicate the new library to mom?" He asked in surprise.

"I can't think of anyone better to do it, can you?"

"Sure, yeah, no problem," he told him, feeling a little shell-shocked. For the last several years all his dad did whenever they were within shouting distance was remind him of how disappointed his mother would have been if she could see him, and now…whoa. "Are you sure you want me to do it though? Don't I have to give a speech or something?"

"You don't have to worry about giving a speech, son; just say what's in your heart," he said easily. "You know, you remind me of her so much," Malcolm told him with a proud look.

"Me?" He practically squeaked.

"Your mom was a born caretaker, too; it's why she became a doctor," he said with a hint of melancholy. "Seeing you with Felicity, hearing Mrs. McGregor go on and on about how you've been letting her sleep with you when she has bad dreams—"

He flushed, "I didn't—I mean, she just started doing that on her own."

"No, it's good," Malcolm told him quickly. "I'm glad she trusts you enough to go to you when she needs comforting. I'm sure there were a lot of nights when you could have used someone and I was off…" he inhaled sharply and hung his head as if ashamed.

"It's okay, dad," he told him, feeling more than a little uncomfortable now. Not that it wasn't true; there were lots of nights when he would have loved to have someone to go to, but because his dad was giving him a hell of a lot more credit than he deserved when it came to the younger girl. It's not like he set out to do something nice for her after all; all he did really was not kick her out of his room.

"No, no it's not," Malcolm said somberly. "I can already tell that, someday, you're going to grow into a good man, a good father and husband, and that's not my doing; that's your mother's influence. She would be…so proud of you."

"Thanks," he said swallowing the lump in his throat. He shifted uneasily and glanced at the clock, "Uh, we should go soon. I should probably come up with something, you know, for the, um, not speech or whatever."

Malcolm nodded then looked at him intently, "Just to be sure before I say anything to Felicity; are you sure you wouldn't rather spend the summer with the Queen's instead?"

"Yeah. Yes, I am," he took a calming breath and turned to his father, "And thanks dad, you know, for trusting me with Felicity. I won't let you down, I promise."

The two men came together in an awkward but heartfelt embrace. When they parted, Tommy smiled at his father, standing up a little straighter as a new and unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest. What it was he couldn't say, but he kind of liked it.

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The air was filled with the sounds of clapping and cheers as the last photo was taken and the gold spray-painted shovel was set aside signaling the end of the breaking ground ceremony and the official start of their summer vacation.

Ollie grabbed Tommy's hand in an exaggerated handshake as he stepped away from the podium, "Mr. Merlyn," he said solemnly, "that was a fine speech; very impressive."

"Mr. Queen," he said with equal gravity, "I appreciate the compliment, especially coming from a great orator such as yourself."

"Well, the ladies think so anyway," he grinned then waggled his tongue at him.

"Sick fuckin' bastard," Tommy snickered, losing it.

"I can't believe it, man, can you?" He said with a huge grin. "We might actually graduate high school if we keep this up."

"No joke," Tommy admitted almost giddily.

"Tell you one thing, I will be so glad to get out of this place that I don't even care that my parents probably had to pay somebody off in order for me to pass this year," Ollie said ruefully.

"Your parents paid somebody off?" He asked in low tones so no one else would overhear.

"Well, they didn't say anything but I sure as hell didn't do it on my own," he snorted. Before Tommy could ask anything further he clasped him on the shoulder warmly, "Hey, my mom and dad want me to take a few pictures real quick before we leave. They'll probably want to take a few for you to send to your old man as well. I figure he already left by now, right? Malcolm never sticks around for these things. I wish we didn't have to," he muttered, already tugging on his own tie.

"Actually Malcolm's here believe it or not," he told him, his eyes seeking out his father who was standing up and motioning him over as Felicity stood by his side waving happily.

"Oh wow, that's a first," Ollie said in mild surprise glancing over at him then offering Tommy another grin, "Hey man, do you want to meet up together afterwards and head over to Brandon's?"

"Uh, I'll probably have to catch up to you later. I think dad wants us to have a family dinner tonight at home first and then I'll meet you there."

"A family dinner?" He asked wryly.

"Fuck if I know, man," he said with a shrug. "Malcolm's in some kind of mood but as long as he isn't threatening to disown me or send me to military school, I'm just gonna go with it."

"True dat!" He grinned again, "Tommy Merlyn, future high school graduate."

"Merlyn and Queen, soon to be Harvard freshmen."

Both men erupted into snickers before embracing again and heading in opposite directions.

As he neared his dad and Felicity his smile broadened. The little girl was practically bouncing with excitement as Malcolm walked over to offer him a hearty embrace.

"I'm proud of you son," he said warmly.

"Can I see?" Felicity asked excitedly.

"See what?" Tommy asked her. She pointed to the commemorative plaque the Superintendent had given him.

"Wow," she said accepting it.

"It's just a plaque," he said a little sheepishly.

"It's more than just a plaque, son," Malcolm told him. "You should be proud; you really honored your mom today with that speech you gave."

"It wasn't much of a speech," he said with a frown. "I mean, I didn't even spend any time on it; I just talked about mom a little, that's all."

"No, it was really, really good!" Felicity said eagerly.

"Yeah?" He asked, giving her a crooked smile.

"Absolutely," Malcolm nodded. "I think you finally found your talent; you're a natural public speaker. In fact, you handled yourself so well up there, the mayor even pulled me aside and said if you wanted to intern with his office next summer before you head off to Harvard, he'd hold a spot for you."

"Yeah?" He said in surprise, "I mean, I was really nervous so I didn't think…"

"No, you looked really good!" Felicity told him. "You even made people laugh a little."

"Yeah, well," he said running his fingers through his messy dark hair, "They were probably just laughing at me."

His dad shook his head and clapped his hand on his shoulder, "Don't make light of your accomplishments, son. Everyone was really impressed with how you handled yourself up there."

The little girl beside him broke out in a deep pink flush of excitement, "The mayor said that someday you might even be mayor or even the governor. He told Malcolm it was like watching the…" She paused as if remembering exactly what was said, "Oh, he said, 'It was like watching the emergence of a young John F. Kennedy,'."

"No way," he snorted.

"He did," Malcolm said, his mouth stretched in a wide grin. "He was especially impressed when I told him you're going to be headed to Harvard in just a couple of years."

He looked at his dad uncertainly, "I don't know, dad. I mean, I know my grades were pretty good this year but…?"

"Look at it this way," he said looking at him intently, "if you could manage a 3.8 without even trying, just imagine what you could do next year if you really put your mind to it."

That's true, he thought. He had yet to figure out how the hell he'd managed that though. He looked at his dad carefully but there were no signs of deception anywhere in his expression. Maybe Ollie's parents paid off someone for him, too? But why would they do that? Ollie, yeah; they'd been bailing him out for a while now, but him? Yeah, he was practically their other kid, but still…

"You're going to be at Harvard and, in just a little while, I'm going to be at MIT," Felicity told him as she clutched the plaque to her chest and flushed happily. "And then maybe we could see each other all the time."

"I'm pretty sure I'll be out of school long before you get to MIT, kiddo," he said, brushing off his mood and wrinkling his nose at her.

"Nope," she said firmly.

"She's right," Malcolm confirmed, "Not much longer, right sunshine? Here, let me take that," he said, taking the wood and brass plaque and tucking it under his arm.

She nodded happily, "It's going to be Felicity Smoak, MIT class of '09!"

"Wait, you're… Seriously?" He looked at her in awe. "How many grades did you skip anyway? When I was twelve all I was thinking about was collecting Transformers."

"Did you hear that they're thinking about making a live action Transformers movie?" She asked excitedly.

"Really?" He said in surprise.

"It's just a rumor right now but people are already saying it's gonna be awesome," she said emphatically. "Maybe when it comes out you could take me?"

"Yeah, okay," he shrugged. "Why not?"

"Malcolm!"

Tommy turned to see Robert and Moira heading towards them with Thea and Ollie in tow. Felicity quickly moved to stand slightly behind and between Malcolm and himself, her hand clutching at his pants leg nervously. Without even thinking about it, Tommy placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as the other family approached.

Robert and Malcolm immediately clasped hands and launched into a discussion about business while Moira gave him a cool smile and offered him an air kiss on each cheek, "Congratulations Thomas, that was a wonderful speech you gave. We were very impressed."

"Thanks," he said flushing slightly.

"We're proud of both of you, in fact" she told him, reaching behind her for Oliver's hand and squeezing it affectionately. "I can't believe how much the two of you have matured over the last several months. My baby is finally growing up." Oliver just gave him a longsuffering look like he would rather be anywhere else at that moment.

"Very proud," Robert agreed with a wide grin, "Moira and I honestly thought all those nights he said he was going over to your house to 'study' were code for playing video games and getting into mischief while stuffing yourselves with junk food!"

"Robert!" Moira chastised him, throwing him and Malcolm an apologetic look.

"He's right," his dad said ruefully. "For a while there I thought I was going to have to enroll Tommy in a military school just so he could graduate."

"Yeah, that was never gonna happen," Tommy snorted.

Robert's eyes landed on Felicity who was peeking out at them silently from behind Tommy, "And who's this pretty little girl?" He asked, kneeling down slightly.

"This is Felicity," Malcolm told them when she didn't answer. He ran his hand over her hair, "Say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Queen, sunshine."

"Hello," she whispered, clinging even tighter to Tommy.

"Hi Felicity," Robert said, getting down on her level and pulling an exuberant Thea forward, "This is Thea."

Thea gave her a wide gap-toothed grin, "F'this'ty ith a funny name," the little girl lisped.

"Felicity," Malcolm sounded out carefully as he and the other adults chuckled but Felicity herself didn't look very amused, she just reached up to squeeze Tommy's hand as if seeking some kind of comfort.

"Fa-thil-ity," Thea repeated making everyone laugh again.

"That was a good try, kiddo," Robert said, running his hand over his daughter's dark hair that was so unlike he and his wife's own pale blond locks.

"This is the little girl you're sponsoring through your charity, isn't it?" Moira asked, looking directly at Malcolm as she spoke. She then turned to Tommy, "Well, that was very nice of you to invite her to your mother's dedication ceremony, Tommy."

Something in the way she said that just put his teeth on edge but instead of correcting her (mostly because he couldn't exactly figure out what he would say anyway since she was technically right) he just mumbled, "Yeah, thanks."

"I fell off a hor-th and broke my arm," Thea told her holding up her pink cast. "I al-tho broke out my teeth, th-ee?" She said, stretching her lips almost impossibly wide to show off the fact that she had lost both of her eyeteeth. "Do you have a hor-th, too?"

"No," she said in a muted tone, so unlike the voice she usually used around the house that Tommy frowned at her.

"Thea," Moira said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Not every little girl is lucky enough to be able to take riding lessons."

"Oh," Thea said, blinking up at her mother before turning back to Felicity, "You can th-are my hor-th. Do you like hor-thes? My hor-the's name ith Panda 'cau-th the-he ha-th th-pot-ths."

Felicity looked up at Tommy helplessly and all he could do was shrug.

All he caught from that was 'Panda' and something that sounded like a word Mrs. McGregor would have tried to make him eat soap for saying when he was her age.

"Why don't you go take Thea over by the koi pond," Malcolm told Felicity as he pointed to the decorative pond and fountain just a few feet away.

"Okay," she said reluctantly letting go of Tommy and accepting the much younger girl's hand as Thea dragged her over to the pond chattering away about her, uh, horse.

At least he figured it was a horse she was talking about, because if Moira and Robert were springing for classes taught by 'whores' he would have heard about it by now.

On second thought, no, he wouldn't have. Ollie would have kept that shit to himself.

"Such a strange little girl," Moira mused.

"She's just shy, Moira," Robert said censuring her lightly.

"Yeah, Tommy calls her the creeper because she's always creeping around the house, right Tommy?" Ollie joked.

"She's not a creeper," Tommy said, narrowing his eyes slightly and causing Ollie to frown at him in confusion. "And Felicity's not really shy either, she just…I don't know, gets nervous in unfamiliar surroundings sometimes," he said defensively.

"Also, she's not really used to being around children her own age," Malcolm said, trying to smooth things over.

"She's twelve, almost thirteen; Thea's five," he shot back. "They aren't even close to being the same age. Actually, Felicity's more like thirty just in a twelve year old body."

"Listen to you, Tommy Merlyn; sounding like a protective older brother. Good man," Robert said, giving him an approving look.

"Well, I mean, she's not really my—"

"She's so small for her age though," Moira said, looking at her with a frown. She turned to Malcolm, "Is she…normal?"

Tommy flushed red at that, his posture stiffening in outrage.

"She's fine; small statured but otherwise perfectly normal," Malcolm assured her in a way that raised Tommy's hackles even further. "The doctors assure me she'll have a growth spurt soon and catch up with the rest of the girls her age."

He thought about saying something else but Ollie latched onto his arm and began dragging him away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Ollie turned to him with a frown, "Man, what is up with you all of the sudden?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, his eyes seeking out Felicity who looked decidedly uncomfortable as Thea continued to chatter away pointing at the fish under the water.

"You looked like you were going to jump down my throat a minute ago. Hell, you looked like you were two seconds from losing your shit altogether."

He sighed and turned back to Ollie with a shrug, "I dunno; ever since the other day I've kind of been on edge when it comes to Felicity."

Ollie's expression sobered and he glanced at her nervously as well, "Yeah," he said clearing his throat, "Has she said anything about that to anybody yet?"

"No," he snorted dismissively.

"Think she will?"

"No way," he said waving him off. "Felicity's totally cool."

"Good," the other man said, obviously relieved. "Man, I've been sweating balls over that for days now. She's still okay, right?" Tommy nodded and Oliver broke into a rueful grin, "We really dodged a bullet with that one." He relaxed and clapped him on the shoulder, "I'm gonna drag my parents away before this becomes some kind of business conference between our dads and catch up to you later."

"Later, man," he nodded. He watched as Ollie jogged up to his parents who had apparently collected Thea as his dad approached with his cell pressed against his ear.

Malcolm laid his hand over the receiver and looked at him, "Hey Tommy, let me just take this call real quick while you collect Felicity and go to the car. As soon as I'm done we'll head over to the restaurant for lunch. Remo's okay?"

"Okay." He paused, "But, uh, not pizza."

Malcolm held his hand over the receiver and frowned, "We always do Remo's; I thought it was your favorite."

"Yeah, but Felicity doesn't like pizza and she had pasta the other day," he told him. "I was thinking we could let her choose; maybe someplace with," he grimaced, "a salad bar or something."

"Okay," Malcolm said, his lips turning upwards at the corners, "You guys pick the restaurant and we'll be on our way."

He started towards the pond where he saw Felicity last but paused when Malcolm placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "And Tommy? I really am proud of you."

"I know, you've said that like fifty times today," he said dryly.

Malcolm smirked, "Well, since this might be my last chance to ever say it again, I felt like I needed to make the most of it."

"Hah hah," he said drolly. "I'll go get Felicity."

He made his way past the koi pond and azalea bushes, his eyes scanning the grounds until he caught sight of the bright blue of her sundress peeking out from behind the large oak where, ironically enough, he and Ollie had spent most of high school so far sneaking smokes in between classes.

"What are you doing?" He asked as he came around to see her staring at the tops of her shiny patent leather Mary Janes. "Are you okay?" He frowned.

"Do you really like me?" She asked in a small voice.

He blinked in confusion, "Yeah…why?"

She shrugged without looking at him, "That lady said I was basically just a charity case and that's why you invited me."

"She didn't mean it like that," he assured her even though, truth be told, it kind of bothered him the way she said it as well.

She peered at him over the thick rimmed glasses which had slid down her nose, "So you don't think of me that way?"

He gave her a contemplative look before answering, "Can I ask you a question first?" At her curious look he asked the question that had been hovering at the edge of his mind ever since he'd talked to his dad and Oliver's parents earlier, "Did you hack into the school's server and change my grades so I'd be able to pass this year?"

"No," she said weakly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Felicity."

"No," she repeated, her eyes dropping to the ground as she kicked the toe of her shoe into the dirt, "You still would have passed."

"Seriously?" He scowled in a harsh whisper.

"I just changed them a little bit," she said, looking up at him imploringly.

"How much is a little bit?"

Her brow furrowed, "Okay, maybe I changed them a little more than that but you still would have passed," she said hurriedly then added, "Probably."

"Probably?" He asked incredulously.

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Why would you do that?" He asked her in confusion, "You barely even know me!"

"Well," she began flushing crimson, "Malcolm said you were supposed to go to Harvard after next year and MIT is practically right next to Harvard so I figured that if you could go there then we could maybe become friends," she shrugged. "When Malcolm told me your grades were kind of, um," she gave him a guilty look. "Anyway, I knew Harvard wouldn't accept you unless they improved so I just…"

"Improved them a little," he finished wryly. "What about Ollie? Did you improve his grades 'a little', too?" The look on her face told him all he needed to know. "Okay, I kind of get why you would do that for me but you'd never even met Ollie before."

She tilted her head up at him and bit her bottom lip, "Well, Malcolm said that you were looking forward to going to school with your friend and I figured that if he didn't get to go then you might not go so-"

"Got it," he said with a sigh then ran his fingers through his hair as he looked at her askance, "Were my grades better than his at least; you know, before you changed them?"

"Um, yeah?"

His face fell, "Seriously? I went to way more classes than he did."

"He apparently has a natural affinity for geometry but you were a lot better in English," she assured him. "Oh, and he totally flunked biology."

"Ollie flunked biology? That's surprising," he muttered then scowled at her, "Okay, from here on out no more changing my grades, got it?"

"Are you sure?" She asked uncertainly. "You still have a whole year to go and Harvard's kind of…hard."

He paused, "That's true." He debated that for a moment before finally shaking his head, "No; no more 'helping' me, got it? I have to learn to do stuff on my own eventually, might as well start now."

"Okay," she said somberly. "Are you mad?"

"No," he said gruffly.

"Do you think I'm just a charity case and that's why you've been so nice to me?"

He flinched. Had he been nice to her? Not really, he admitted silently. He'd called her cruel names both to her face and behind her back, never bothered to ask about her even though she'd technically been part of their family for almost four years…

Did a few days of being nice to the kid make up for four years of him being a total dick?

"Do you think I'm a charity case?" He asked her instead. "Is that why you changed my grades?"

"No," she said shyly. "I just wanted to have the chance to become your friend someday."

"You are my friend."

"I am?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, "In fact, you're practically a bro."

"I'm a bro?" She asked wide-eyed.

"Hell yeah!" He snorted, "I mean, you could have screwed us over but stuck to the code by not ratting us out, you had our backs without us even having to ask; that spells bro to me."

"Wow," she breathed, looking away for a minute. She bit her lip again as she cast hopeful eyes in his direction, "So, if I'm a bro, then does that mean we're really friends…like for always friends?"

"Sure," he nodded. "Absolutely. I totally get the feeling that someday you might even have the potential to be my best friend, like a platonic life-bro…next to Ollie, of course."

"Really?" She said, her entire expression lighting up then sobered slightly, "I mean, of course," she nodded sagely. "Bros."

"Bros," Tommy said, offering her a solemn chin bob.

"Tommy! Felicity! The car's here!" They heard Malcolm yell out. Tommy held out his hand and she took it gratefully as they walked towards Malcolm who stepped inside the town car as soon as he caught sight of them.

"Dad said you hacked the FBI when you were seven and got busted," he mentioned casually as they made their way towards the parking lot.

"Yeah, well, I've gotten a lot better about covering my tracks since then," she said with a hint of chagrin.

"So could you hack into the SCPD and erase parking tickets and stuff?" He asked curiously.

"Duh," she said flatly. "I hacked the FBI when I was seven, remember?"

"Good to know," he nodded, filing that bit of information away.

"Tommy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're my friend."

"I'm glad you're my friend, too, sunshine."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Bro Code in Action

They wound up having Japanese food that night because Felicity had never had hibachi before. He grumbled a bit when Malcolm suggested it but, truth be told, despite her bullying him into eating vegetables even though all he wanted was the steak and rice, it was pretty cool. He hadn't been to hibachi in years himself, not since all the unnecessary bad puns and clanging of spatulas started seeming kind of old and overdone. He was usually like, 'Dude! Stop making the butter fly and playing bongos with your spatula and just give me my food already!' but seeing her eyes get big when the chef caught the egg in his hat then made the grill flame up in a huge fireball had made him laugh. Even Malcolm got into it by catching scrambled egg in his mouth and ordering a massive amount of food for the three of them because Felicity couldn't make up her mind on what to order and basically wanted to try everything. It worked though because what she couldn't eat, they devoured. By the time they got home that night they had a ton of leftovers he vowed to get to the next day before his dad could and Felicity was sound asleep, but it had been one of the best dinners he'd shared with Malcolm since…well, ever.

It did mean he was running late for the bonfire at Brandon's though.

Normally he wouldn't give a crap about being late to one of Brandon's parties because he was always throwing a party and they tended to go on all night long and well into the next day. Like a lot of their mutual buddies in the elite Lost Boys Club that seemed to surround them, Brandon's mom was usually MIA and his dad was too busy impregnating his secretary to give a crap about what he did, so his parties were legendary, even among kids whose folks could be regularly found on the covers of Forbes and Vanity Fair.

Brandon McNamara was political royalty through his dad just like Ollie was through Moira. Unlike the Dearden's though, his father, Mad Jack McNamara, was what was known as a kingmaker; the kind of guy used to pulling the strings behind the curtain. He was the kind of guy who decided who would and wouldn't win the election long before the voters even knew who was running and that gave him a lot of power, especially in Starling City. Other than Malcolm and Robert, his dad was probably the biggest mover and shaker in town. Brandon's mom, Stephanie, on the other hand, was a dime a dozen society queen who spent most of her days in a fog of coke, pills, and her personal trainer or whatever golf pro of the week was there to give her 'private lessons'. Between the two of them it was a dangerous mix of easy drugs and no accountability because nobody was going to risk busting Mad Jack's kid for scoring dope or driving his jeep down a public beach while loaded.

They were all passengers on that same sinking ship; him, Ollie, and Brandon. The weariness that came from dealing with sycophants, fake ass people, and hanger's on made them brothers and bonded them because in a world like theirs, the only people they could really relax their guard around was each other. It made for an empty existence where they all seemed to float from one high to another but always guaranteed one hell of a party in the meantime.

If he and Ollie were a little self-destructive, Brandon was the real deal. On the surface he looked completely put together most of the time but, in truth, he was always about two seconds from falling completely apart. There were days that the other man scared the shit out of him and he was convinced that, sooner or later (probably sooner), he'd wind up going just a step too far or take one hit too many and wind up in the crumpled wreckage of his convertible at the bottom of a canyon or floating face down in his mom's pool. That said, despite the Robert Downey, Jr. Less Than Zero teen zeitgeist going on, Brandon was a pretty cool guy. He was actually one of his best friends next to Ollie and, even with the dope show going on in the background all the time, a pretty stand up bro.

Which is why, as soon as he ambled onto the beach behind the sprawling mansion only a member of the 1% could ever refer to as a 'beach cottage', Brandon made a beeline straight for him with a bottle of Jack in one hand and a 'Bro, we gotta talk' expression on his face.

"Dude, let's go take a walk," Brandon said, shoving the Jack in his hand and spinning him around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Why?" He said, breaking away.

"It's…" Brandon glanced over towards the raging bonfire and shrugged, "It's just, y'know, the party is getting kinda lame and it's hot so I figured we could cool off for a while and just hang." He shot him a totally unconvincing grin and punched his arm playfully, "C'mon bro, we never just talk anymore."

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" He asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm just, uh, kind of a little jumpy from the bump I just had and need to mellow a little. Figured we could slow the roll with some booze, maybe smoke a bowl on the dune buggy? I'll even let you drive."

"Yeah, sounds fun, man, but I'm supposed to be meeting Laurel. Is she still here?" He asked, scanning the faces of the people gathered around the fire and spilling out of the house. "I didn't miss her, did I?"

"Yeah; yeah, you just missed her," he said faintly.

"Really?" He asked, automatically heading towards the house, "How long ago did she leave? Maybe I can still catch her?"

"Tommy, man, don't!" He said as he jogged after him, "I mean, she's long gone by now; like hours ago!"

He frowned and turned to look at him in confusion, "But you said she just left. Like just now."

"I did?" He asked, slurring his words slightly, "Uh…yeah, but," he snorted, "fuck man, I'm high as dog shit; you can take my word for anything right now."

"Okay…" he said slowly, looking at him askance.

"I mean, I've been drinking and then I took a few hits of E, then a bump of coke and Ollie; shit man, he came in with some righteous acid and shrooms so I am like totally feeling my inner Jim Morrison right now," he said swaying slightly. "The whole world is like—" He waved his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly and sloshing the whiskey he was holding out of the bottle.

"Fuck bro, slow your roll," he said in concern. "Damn."

"You're right!" He said gesturing with the whiskey bottle and nearly drenching him, "When Tommy Merlyn is right, he's right!"

"Yeah dude," he said eyeing him in concern, "I mean, there's partying and then there's winding up as a bloated corpse on TMZ partying. Maybe you should put down the Jack and sober up a little?"

"Yeah, you know, you are a good friend, Tommy Merlyn," he said firmly. "Hell, you're not just a friend, you're a goddamn brother; a genuine stand-up bro, that's what you are!"

"Thanks," he said, backing away slowly as Brandon began to advance on him.

"Fuck man," Brandon said, his eyes filling with emotional tears, "You know, seriously…" he lunged and pulled him into a tight embrace, the cold sting of the alcohol splashing on his neck and running down the back of his shirt, "I love you, man. I really fuckin' love you, brother!" He pulled away slightly, his face a bit too close for comfort, "Goddamn Tommy Merlyn. I…shit, I love you."

"Uh…" Tommy eyed him uneasily, "Yeah, you aren't gonna try to kiss me or anything are you, because you are way too drunk and I am way to fuckin' sober to deal with that right now; no offense, bro."

Brandon pulled his face forward and laid a very wet and uncomfortable kiss on his cheek, "I goddamn love you, man! I love you, I really do. You're like…" he pulled him into another embrace, "You're like the best of us, bro. Like, how I feel about you right now? It's like some kind of 'Captain, my captain!' epic shit, you know?"

"Yeah, I was really hoping to avoid…that," he muttered pulling away. "Okay," he said pulling away slowly and inching down the beach, "Uh, you go sleep it off and," he hitched his thumb over his shoulder, "I'm just going to go look for Laurel. Like now."

"No, Tommy…!" Brandon called out as he stumbled after him again. "Man, wait! Come back!"

"Just go sleep it off and I'll check in on you after I find Laurel!" He hollered back as he headed over to the fire.

"Tommy, just stay here, man! Don't go!" He called out plaintively again, sinking to his knees in the wet sand drunkenly.

He jogged backwards and waved at him, "It's cool, bra! I'll be back in a minute! Lay on your side, not on your back in the meantime, okay?"

"Hey, it's Tommy Merlyn!" Jeremy shouted, also swaying on his feet slightly, "Tommy, my man!"

"Hey," he said, coming up beside him.

"Look ev'rybody, the Wizard of Weed is in the hiz-house!" He called out sloppily, his pronouncement causing several of the partygoers to erupt in cheers. "Can you roll us a couple, man? I forgot what you showed me because I'm slightly fucked up at the moment."

Slightly, he thought looking at the slovenly man in front of him. "Not right now, bra; have you seen Laurel?"

"Uhh…" he tilted his head back and frowned, "Laurel Lance?"

"Yeah, Laurel Lance," he said in irritation. "The only Laurel either of us know, so yeah."

This is why it was never a good idea to show up late to a Brandon McNamara party; after ten o'clock Gomorrah turns to Sodom and brain cells turn into fried egg PSAs.

Not that Jeremy had that many brain cells to begin with.

"That's the sister with the little tits and the brown hair, right? Not the sister with the blonde hair and the juicy ones?" He asked.

"Never mind," he said darkly, seriously giving thought to knocking the fat bastard on his flabby drunk ass. "What about Ollie; is he still here?"

"Yeah, man," he said pointing towards the house and stumbling slightly, "He was scroggin' on some random by the fire then went into Brandon's crib to get his fuck on."

"That sounds like Ollie," he said wryly. "You know how long ago that was?"

"I don't know, long enough for a squirrel to get a nut!" He said, snorting like a pig. "Hey!" He shouted turning towards the large group of revelers, "Did you hear what I said? I said Ollie Queen was a squirrel getting his nut! Because, you know, he was totally dry humping that chick, remember?" Someone shouted out 'Shut the fuck up, loser!' "You shut up!" Jeremy called back angrily, "Shut up or me and my friend, Tommy, will kick your fuckin' ass, you—you—asshole!" He turned to him blearily, "Did you hear that? I totally called that guy an asshole."

"Yeah…very clever," Tommy said looking at the other man with no small measure of disgust.

He could barely tolerate Jeremy when he was wasted much less when he was sober.

"You wanna go kick his ass?" He asked him.

"Maybe later."

"Cool," Jeremy said before wandering back drunkenly towards the bonfire. "Tommy said he's going to kick your ass later because you insulted me and he's my friend!"

He resisted the urge to bang his head against something hard and instead scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

"Danny!" He called out to another one of their friends who currently had his tongue down some girl's throat and his hand up her blouse.

"What?" He asked belligerently, pulling away slightly.

Danny was a prick on his best day but he usually stayed fairly sober and right now he really needed to talk to someone who wasn't completely wrecked out of their skulls.

"Where's Ollie?"

He screwed his face up in a sour expression, "Fuck if I know! Last I saw him he was trying to get into some girl's panties. I think her name was Sara something."

"Ollie's screwing Sara Lance?" He asked in surprise. "She's like fourteen!"

"Shit, I don't care!" He said, "It's not my dick in that."

Fuck, if Laurel found out Ollie was busy popping her little sister's cherry she was going to go nuclear and then her dad, *the cop*, was going to bust him for hooking up with jail bait. It wasn't the first time Ollie's dick had gotten him in trouble but, shit; this was a horse of a different color.

"How long ago did they leave?" He asked, suddenly more interested in finding the other Lance sister before his buddy did something they all would wind up regretting in the morning.

"Couple minutes," he said irritably before going back to groping the redhead straddling his lap.

"Oh shit!" He muttered, practically running into the house. Hopefully he was too stoned to get too far but he doubted it. If there was one thing Ollie Queen knew how to do drunk it was get laid.

"Where's Ollie?" He shouted as he burst into the house which was awash in young teenage bodies in various states of undress as music pounded the walls and a haze of marijuana smoke choked out most of the oxygen in the room. Someone pointed upstairs and Tommy headed up two at a time, opening doors as he went.

Most were filled with the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh, but he only paused in his frantic search long enough to ascertain whether Ollie or Sara were among them. Finally he came to the master bedroom and flung the door open to see…

Then froze.

"Oh my God!" Laurel screamed, clapping her hands over her naked breasts as she scrambled off the top of Ollie to hide under the covers. "I thought you said you locked the door?!"

"Tommy?" Ollie said in surprise as he sat up in the bed, the covers low enough on his hips that it was obvious he was naked. "Oh man, I didn't think you were coming!"

"Yeah," he said numbly, "Makes two of us."

"Get out!" Laurel screeched.

"Tommy, man, let me explain-!" Ollie said, reaching on the floor for his pants. "Hold up!"

"You're leaving?" Laurel goggled at him. "Now?"

"That's okay," Tommy said, looking his 'bro' in the eye, "Stay; I was just leaving."

"Tommy…" Ollie said pleadingly.

"Naw man, it's cool. You two have fun," he said then shut the door behind him and left.

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He always wanted a tree house as a kid but his dad was never around enough to build him one. He could have asked Mrs. McGregor, had her tell one of the gardeners build it, but that seemed like cheating for some reason. He was a kid brought up by sitcoms so, as much as he wanted one, he wanted the Brady Bunch version of it more. He wanted Malcolm to sweep in with some gorgeous new step-mommy, his toolbox in hand, eager to bond over Ovaltine and penny nails together.

That didn't happen.

Instead, he had a pool house with a widow's walk on the roof. It did the job though and gave him a place to literally get above it all. He took another swig of the Johnny Walker Red he'd swiped from Brandon's liquor cabinet and resisted the urge to either break down in sobs like a little baby or go find Ollie and pound the living dog shit out of him until the pain stopped.

Ollie fucked Laurel.

He slept with his dream girl. Even after telling him he didn't care about her and knowing how he felt, he fucked her.

He even knew he was on his way to meet her and he still fucked her. Worse, he screwed her at a party in front of all of their closest friends knowing that he'd walk in and see that and knowing that everyone else would, too. This was like Caroline all over again, only it was worse because it was Ollie humiliating him publically this time.

That was the worst part, he decided. Not losing Laurel, not even Ollie shitting all over him, it was that he did it in public knowing how badly Caroline burned him just a year before when he caught her hanging all over Carter and telling everybody what a shitty lay he was.

Caroline had been his first and, foolish as it sounded now, he loved her. He thought she loved him back but, as it turned out, all she was interested in was bagging Tommy Merlyn, not Tommy himself. She thought sleeping with the son of a billionaire translated to exciting parties and exotic vacations but what she got was a low key guy who just liked hanging out with his friends and keeping things simple. Ollie was the one who brought him back from that, who nursed him through the pain of a very public break up, and yet, knowing what he'd already been through…

A sour feeling curled in his stomach when he realized that his best friend, his brother, the person he trusted most in this entire world, not only didn't give a shit about him but had intended to hurt him on purpose. Why he had no idea, but facts were facts.

"You okay?"

He glanced behind him to see Felicity nervously looking at him through the open window leading to the metal balcony of the Newport style pool house. "You should be in bed," he told her gruffly, watching her shiver in her thin pink nightie and bare feet.

Even in the summer time, the temperatures could drop fairly quickly once the sun went down. He could barely feel it, hell, he could barely feel anything at this point, but he could see the goosebumps on her arms from where he was sitting.

"Couldn't sleep," she told him. "You weren't in your room."

"Yeah," he said morosely as he took another drink.

"What's wrong?" She asked, trembling slightly as she stepped out onto the rickety looking metal framework of the widow's walk.

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" He asked her, frowning as he noticed her shaking from head to toe as she eased down beside him carefully. "If you're that cold you need to be in bed."

"I'm not cold," she said, her voice shaky.

"Right," he retorted, setting down the booze and shrugging off his flannel over shirt to drop it over her shoulders.

She clutched the shirt around her and squeezed in against him tight, sighing in relief as he automatically dropped his arm around her, "What's wrong?" He started to open his mouth but she cut him off, "You're drinking and you're sitting on a roof in the middle of the night instead of hanging out with Laurel at that party you and Ollie have been talking about."

His mouth tightened and he looked out across the trees to the thin dark line of the ocean, refusing to meet her eyes, "Yeah, well…"

"She decided she didn't want to be your girlfriend after all?" She guessed.

Tommy snorted, "No," he said acerbically, "Well, yeah. Seems she decided to be someone else's girlfriend instead."

She fell silent for a moment before speaking again, "That's too bad."

"Yup, too bad," he huffed, glancing at the bottle again but not drinking. It was tempting but she'd already seen enough of his fuck ups for one lifetime; he wasn't going to compound it by getting wasted in front of her while sitting on the roof.

"Poor Laurel," she said sadly.

He turned to look at her in surprise, "Poor Laurel?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I mean, she missed out on being your girlfriend and probably doesn't even know how big of a mistake she made because she's with some other guy who will never even come close to being as good as you. That's kind of sad, don't you think?"

Despite himself, his felt his lips twitch upwards slightly, "You are so full of crap."

"No, I'm not," she told him in a deadpan. "I mean, she doesn't know it yet, but she just passed up on being the future First Lady of Starling City, maybe of the whole state!"

"What about the country?" He asked her, playing along. "What? I can be mayor or governor but I can't be president?"

"Nope," she told him, "Because then you'd have to move to Washington DC and we couldn't live together anymore."

"Oh, so you're never moving out then?" He asked, his mood lifting slightly.

"From Malcolm's house, yeah, but then I'm going to move in with you," she told him.

"With me?" He asked her. "What about when you get married?"

"He's going to live with us, too," she told him, her tone deadly serious and without even a hint of humor.

He eyed her carefully, "And you don't think he'd have a problem with that; with the two of us-sorry, the *three* of us living together forever?"

"Nope," she said simply.

"Sounds like a really understanding guy," he nodded gravely. "What about if I get married then? What if my wife doesn't want you to move in with us?"

"She'll be okay with it," she said confidently.

"How do you know?"

"Because she and I are going to be best friends," she told him.

"Oh, you are, huh?" He hummed.

"Uh huh, just like my husband is going to be your best friend."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're not allowed to marry anybody I don't like and I'm not allowed to marry anybody you don't like," she said easily. "That's the rule."

"That so?" He said pursing his lips.

"Yup," she told him. "I'm not even allowed to date anybody unless you like them first."

"Really?" He said arching his eyebrow at that. "I gotta say, I kind of like that rule actually."

"But, in exchange, you can't date anybody I don't like either."

"Now hold on there," he said quickly. "What if I have the opportunity to date a super model and you don't like her for some reason?"

She blinked at him, "Yeah, right."

"It could happen," he said with a mock scowl.

"Okay…" she said slowly, "If you meet a super model," she took a second to roll her eyes, "who wants to date you but I don't like her, I *might* consider giving you one free pass."

"Just one?" He complained. "What if after we break up I meet another super model who also wants to date me?"

"Come on, the chances of you meeting *one* super model who would even consider giving you the time of day…" she began.

"I thought you were supposed to be cheering me up here?" He said with a frown.

"Well, there's cheering someone up and then there's full-out lying," she told him.

"I could bag a super model," he said confidently.

"No, you couldn't," she said wryly.

"Yes, I could," he told her. "My dad's a billionaire, remember?"

"Yeah, but super models only date musicians."

He opened his mouth to object then stopped, "Huh." He considered that for a moment, "No, wait, super models don't *just* date musicians."

…probably.

"Name one super model not dating a musician," she told him.

He blanked out at that but was spared when she answered her own question.

"Okay, well, some super models *might* consider dating a famous athlete, or an actor or maybe a race car driver but you don't do sports, you can't act, and you can barely drive, so unless you can play an instrument other than the air guitar there is no way you're getting a super model," she said matter-of-factly. "Ever."

"I can drive," he muttered.

"Not a race car," she shot back. "Plus it can't be like NASCAR or anything; it has to be like Lamborghinis and stuff over in Europe and, even then, it's only if you're Italian or French or something because you also can't date super models and *not* be a musician *unless* you have a cool accent and you just sound normal, like a normal ordinary person who just says 'bro' a lot."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"TV."

"Whatever," he muttered with a scowl.

"So who did she pick to be her boyfriend instead?"

He felt his cheeks flush in anger once again as he stared out over the property, "Ollie."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"Yeah, 'oh'." He snorted humorlessly.

"Now I really feel bad for her," she said shaking her head.

"Why?" He said incredulously.

"Have you met Ollie?" She asked roundly.

He wasn't even going to bother arguing with her about that one.

Instead he just tightened his grip on the railing as he rested his forehead against the cool metal and said, "You know the worst part? He *knew* I was going to that party specifically to get with her and he hooked up with her anyway, plus he did it in front of everybody," he said angrily. "He's my best friend and of all the girls—no, no; you want to know the worst part?" He asked turning to her, "It turns out that they had already gone out last summer -twice- and he didn't even bother telling me, then when I did find out, he said he didn't give a crap about her and basically handed her to me on a silver platter before sliding in there and bagging her behind my back!"

"That doesn't sound right," she scowled.

"It's not right!" He told her, "It's a total violation of the bro code! Plus, he's supposed to be my best friend! I mean, what the hell?"

"No, I mean, how can he just *hand* you Laurel?" She asked him. "She has the right to be with whoever she wants to be with; you and Ollie can't just decide that for her."

He looked at her with hurt eyes, "I thought you were supposed to be on my side here?"

"I am on your side but not if you have your head up your butt," she said with a snort. "You said it yourself, you weren't dating Laurel first; he was. In fact, you weren't dating her at all; you just *wanted* to date her."

"Yeah, but-" he made an irritated noise, "I mean, technically yeah, but-!"

"But what? You just said he dated her last summer."

He glowered at her, "Yeah, but he also hooked up with another girl in the middle of their date then told her himself that they weren't actually going out."

"Ah," she said pursing her lips.

"Exactly," he agreed staring back out across the property.

"So….is this Laurel like mentally defective or something?"

"No!" He said rounding on her again.

"Are you sure?" She asked dubiously. "Because, I mean, you were saying how you two totally connected on the phone the other day, then she makes plans to meet you at the party only to get together with a guy who left her for another girl in the middle of their date?" She looked at him steadily for a moment, "Wow, you ask me you dodged a bullet there."

He scratched the back of his neck and looked at her feeling utterly perplexed for a moment, "But, I mean…huh?"

"No, think about it," she told him nodding earnestly. "I don't know her but she must really have it bad if she could want to go back to him after all that."

"No, but that's just it!" He insisted, "The other day she acted like she hated him. She was talking about how much Ollie sucked and how she'd never go out with him again in a million years! In fact, that's how I found out they'd even dated in the first place; her best friend and her sister started joking about how they hooked up last summer."

"Did they talk about all that stuff in front of him?" She asked knowingly.

His eyebrows drew together at that, "Yeah…"

She nodded sagely.

"What?"

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "Well, I mean, it's…pretty obvious that she put her friends up to that so he'd notice her."

That…actually made sense.

He screwed his eyes shut, "Seriously, you're twelve; how do you know about all this stuff?"

"I watch a *lot* of TV. Plus I read."

"Okay, fine," he said in frustration. "Laurel had the right to pick anybody she wanted, okay? But Ollie was supposed to be my bro! He knew how I felt about her and he went there anyway!"

"Yeah, now that does suck," she commiserated.

"Why would he do that?" He raged. "We've been friends since we were in diapers! Why would he try to screw me over like that? Practically everybody else in his life has already pretty much written him off as a fuck-up," he stopped, "sorry." She waved him off, "Anyway, I'm the last real friend he's got and he totally screwed me!"

"Maybe he was testing you?" She suggested.

"That's stupid," he said dismissively.

"No, seriously, maybe he wanted to test you to see if you'd still be his friend afterwards?" She blinked up at him, pushing her large lenses up her nose. "You said so yourself; everybody else, all of his friends and family members, think he's a screw up so maybe he thought you might think he's a screw up, too. Maybe he figured you'd stop being his friend eventually so he wanted to see if you'd forgive him?"

"Oliver may be a dumb ass but that's pretty stupid even for him," he scoffed.

"But taking off and skipping out on both the midterms and the finals then just accepting the fact that he managed to somehow get a 3.8 GPA wasn't?"

"Hey, even I thought for a minute there that…" he stopped, realizing that by finishing that sentence he wouldn't be doing himself any favors. "You might have a point," he said reluctantly. "Okay, assuming you're right, what do I do now? Do I forgive him, do I beat the crap out of him, do I stop being his friend; what?"

"What do you want to do?" She asked him.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you," he said pulling a face.

"Okay, do you want to still be his friend?"

"No," he huffed then wobbled a bit, "Maybe. Kind of, because he's still my best friend but then again he completely fu—" he bit his tongue, "screwed me over so I'm pi- mad at him right now."

"If he had been honest and told you he had the hots for Laurel would you have been cool with it?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "I don't know because, honestly, knowing Ollie, he just hooked up with her because she was there."

"Okay, so do you want Laurel now?"

"Hell no," he said gruffly. "At this point I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole and somebody else's di-, uh, hands," he said carefully.

"So what if you could keep Ollie as your friend while kind of getting revenge?" She asked slowly. "That way you could have closure and the two of you could move on."

"Closure?" He asked dubiously.

"Sometimes I watch Dr. Phil."

"Dr. Phil?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Oprah's better though."

"Closure," he mulled that over. "What did you have in mind?" He asked her carefully.

"Well, if I'm right, and I usually am because I'm kind of a genius," she offered him a mischievous grin, "Actually, not 'kind of', I am a genius. Anyway, the only reason he went after Laurel was to get a reaction out of you and the only reason Laurel went after Ollie is because she thought he didn't want her, so what if you act like you don't care?"

"I'm…lost," he frowned.

"What I mean is that Ollie is going to be expecting you to be mad at him but if you pretend to be happy that he's with Laurel or, better yet, that you don't really care either way, then he's kind of stuck."

"Stuck? How is he stuck?"

She sighed and gave him a long-suffering look, "Think about it; he just tried to screw over his best friend by taking away the girl he had a crush on. If he really wants you to still be his friend then he can't ever break up with Laurel. Or, at least, not for a really, really long time."

"I'm still lost," he said furrowing his brow.

"If you act like you don't care about Laurel but that you're happy he's with the girl he must care so much about that he would risk ending your friendship over her; he's stuck," she told him. "He has to keep dating her; he has no choice. If he breaks up with her right after that, or cheats on her with another girl, then it'll look like he was just trying to hurt you on purpose for no reason."

"He'll still cheat on her, trust me," he said flatly.

"Maybe, but not for a while," she said confidently. "He'll have to pretend to be happy she's his girlfriend until you guys are back to where you were. Plus, it will really confuse him because then he'll wonder why you were able to let her go so easily. It would really help if you had another girl."

"You want me to use another girl to make *Ollie* jealous?" He said slowly. "Yeah, our bromance is pretty intense but not that intense."

"No, I don't want you to *use* anybody," she said disparagingly. "It has to be someone you really like so that you can show Ollie you're okay but also because you deserve to be with a girl who likes you for real."

"But I don't like any other girls, just Laurel," he said sullenly. "Ollie knows that. I spent a year just staring at her before I ever got the courage to even talk to her."

"There has got to be another girl you could like just as much, if not more than Laurel," she said dismissively. "Like I said, I've never met her but, trust me, she's not the only girl in the world."

He shot her a dirty look but thought about it before answering her reluctantly, "Well, there's McKenna."

"McKenna?" She asked curiously.

"Laurel's best friend," he admitted. "Ollie had kind of a thing for her which is why I never went there."

"Is she nice?"

"Yeah," he said shrugging. "I mean, she's gorgeous and smart; not destined to be class valedictorian like Laurel, but really sharp."

"You should ask her to the party."

"I can't—party?" He asked in confusion. "What party?"

She waved him off, "I'll get to that later, but first you need to call her and invite her over here tomorrow."

He blinked, "Uh, why?"

"So I can meet her and decide if I like her," she told him.

"But wait—" He ran his fingers through his hair in confusion, "How is me hooking up with McKenna any better than him hooking up with Laurel?"

"You're not, you're becoming her friend," she told him carefully.

"Her friend?" He repeated.

"Yeah, because a friend is ten times better than a girlfriend."

"How do you figure?" He said chuckling, "Because, trust me, the stuff I would do if I had a girlfriend is *way* more fun than just hanging out with my buds."

"Not really," she said wrinkling her nose slightly. "I mean, I get the kissing and stuff but you can actually hang out and be yourself with your friends; with a girlfriend you have to be someone who isn't you all the time."

"I don't follow," he told her.

"Well, when you want someone to like you, you pretend to be the kind of person they want you to be, not the person you are, but when you're with your friends you can just be you. Do you think that's what Ollie is doing with Laurel right now? Just hanging out with him being the real Ollie and talking about the same stuff he talks to you about, or is he pretending to be someone else so she'll pick him to be her boyfriend?"

No, Ollie and Laurel were not 'hanging out' and they certainly weren't embroiled in some kind of deep conversation at the moment.

"Plus, it would also bug the crap out of Laurel which would really bug Ollie then because, not only is he stuck, but now he'll wonder just like Laurel what it is he missed out on."

"Wait, Laurel…huh?" He said shaking his head.

"Well, what I was thinking is that Laurel obviously had to know you had a thing for her because you weren't exactly subtle—"

"Hey!" He objected.

She tilted her head and looked him in the eye, "Look, you said it yourself; Laurel only wanted Ollie because she couldn't have him so, it goes to reason that the reason she didn't want you is because she thought she already had you. Once she sees that you never really cared, that will bother her a lot, trust me."

"I never said any of that though," he pointed out.

"It was implied," she told him. "It's called 'subtext'."

"I know what subtext is," sort of. "I actually passed that class, remember? What I'm saying is what makes you think Laurel even likes me like that?"

"She doesn't like you," she told him.

Thanks," he said dryly.

"No, it's not about her liking you; it's about you liking her."

"Okay…"

"It's a control thing," she told him. "Laurel only wants what she can't have which is why, even though she's really smart, she wanted Ollie. Once she sees you don't want her either then that will bother her just like it bothered her when Ollie acted like he didn't want her. Plus, since Ollie is stuck with her she won't want him anymore because she already has him."

He looked at her dubiously, "How much Dr. Phil do you watch anyway?"

"A lot," she answered, "and the other day me and Mrs. Mack were watching it together in the kitchen when he had this whole segment about women in toxic relationship cycles which is how I know she'll probably be expecting you to be all depressed and stuff but when you act like you don't care then it'll drive her out of her skull!"

He looked at her in amazement, "Where do you even-?" He closed his eyes, "I need to start watching more TV."

"You really should try watching Teen Nick," she told him. "They have a ton of shows about this stuff all the time and it's a lot better than Dr. Phil because they also have cartoons, but if you really want to see some crazy girlfriend/boyfriend stuff, then you should hang out with Mrs. Mack during her stories."

"Her stories?" He asked.

"Yeah," she nodded wide-eyed. "On one of her stories there's this girl who was married to this one guy, then she married his dad, then she married his brother, and now she's married to her own brother only she doesn't know it yet. It's pretty sick, actually. Oh! And every once in a while someone gets possessed by the devil!"

He goggled at her, "The devil?"

She nodded, "Only then Mrs. Mack starts talking about Jesus and saints and how we all need to start attending church more regularly because the devil is real and she doesn't want that to happen to us, then I have to remind her that I'm Jewish, which leads to her pointing out that Jesus was Jewish, and…" She took a deep breath, "Trust me, that's just not a rabbit hole you want to go down with her."

He let that sink in before speaking again.

"There's no way that's going to work, you realize that right?" He asked her. "Real life and TV are not the same thing."

"Yes, they are," she told him. "That's why it's called *reality* TV. Besides, it's not like we're dealing with a couple of geniuses here. Unlike me who actually is a certified genius, so…"

"Laurel happens to be very smart," he said defensively. "She's set to be valedictorian, remember?"

"Please, like being valedictorian is hard?" She scoffed. "You are putting *way* too much stock in that. Heck, I could make *you* valedictorian and *Ollie* salutatorian with just a keystroke." He uttered a muttered 'Watch it!' but she ignored him, "Plus, she's hooking up with Ollie," she reminded him, "'Nuff said."

"He's not that bad," he grumbled, "You know, when he's not being a total asshat, that is."

"The other day, right before he nearly *killed me*," she emphasized, "he giggled for ten minutes because when he opened the brownie mix it sounded kind of like a fart."

He rubbed the side of his temple and grimaced, "Fine." He exhaled roughly, "They're still not going to buy it though. No matter how this goes down I'm still going to wind up looking like a pathetic sad sa—uh, pathetic."

"Which is why we're also throwing a party."

He looked at her blankly, "What?"

"Think about it; if you were all depressed then you wouldn't throw a party, right?" She asked him.

"You want me to throw a party?" He asked slowly.

"Why not?" She asked him. "You can ask Ollie and Laurel and McKenna and maybe some other people, and I can have Mrs. Mack get hotdogs and hamburgers and stuff for the grill, and you could throw a pool party, because everybody loves pool parties, right?"

"Ollie hates pool parties," he told her. "He hates swimming; I'm pretty sure it's because he hates anything that messes up his hair."

"Seriously?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said with a half shrug, "He's really intense about his hair."

"You mean he meant for it to look like that on purpose?"

Tommy managed to hold it together for all of two seconds before he started laughing uncontrollably. Pretty soon they were both chortling through their tears with no end in sight.

"He *snicker* he thinks that *snort* it makes h-him look like he doesn't *snerk* care!" Tommy managed as he wiped the tears off his cheeks.

"Well, *snicker* he's not wrong!" Felicity giggled, "I still don't *snort* understand h-how he gets it t-to-look like that!"

"L-like what *snerk*?"

"Like there's some kind of *hee hee hee* dead animal up there! *breathless gasps* It l-looks like s-somebody skinned a lap dog or something! *Oh god, stop! I'm gonna pee!*"

"It does!" Tommy said, turning purple as he struggled for oxygen, "It's like his h-head is covered with one of those shit-zoos or something!"

"I-it's SHIH ZHU!" She shouted as she clutched her stomach.

"That's what I said! SHIT ZOO! HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!"

By the time the hilarity storm was over they were leaning on each other heavily, both out of breath and completely wrung out with only the occasional snicker escaping.

"He really is a shit head sometimes," Tommy snickered.

"Then we should definitely have a pool party," Felicity said, wiping her eyes on one of the sleeves of his borrowed shirt before wiping her nose as well.

"Dude!" He said, "Respect the grunge!"

"I don't have a tissue," she told him. "Besides, I've seen how you treat your clothes. If you haven't ruined it by now with all the stuff you drip all over yourself, what's a little snot gonna do?"

"Still, a bro doesn't use another bro's clothes as a snot rag; not cool," he told her.

"It'll come out in the wash," she said rolling her eyes at him.

"Whatever," he told her before sighing, "You know the really sucky part? I've already halfway forgiven him and he hasn't even apologized yet," he griped.

"Yeah, well," Felicity said with a grimace as she swung her legs off the edge of the walk in time with his own, "like you said, he's your best friend."

"He's more than my best friend," he admitted quietly, "He's my brother; like my full-on, brother from another mother, bro for life, brother. Every messed up crazy thing I ever did was with Ollie. Every time I was upset about my mom, or Malcolm just took off again without so much as saying goodbye first, Ollie had my back." He looked at her sadly, all of the euphoria from their laugh-fest having drained away, "He knew every secret I ever had and then some; he was my bro, Felicity," he said helplessly.

"He still is," she assured him.

"You think?" He asked her hopefully.

"Sure," she nodded. She scooted a little closer, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

She looked at him curiously, "What kind of secrets did you tell Ollie?"

"What didn't I tell Ollie?" He said easily before looking at her curiously as well. "Don't you tell your best friend stuff?"

"What do you mean?" She asked with a frown.

"I mean, don't you tell your best friend everything?"

"No," she said in a subdued voice.

He frowned, "Why not?"

"Because…" she hesitated before looking at him through her dark eyelashes, "I mean, well, you're kind of my best friend. Actually, you're kind of my only friend."

"Me?" That surprised him. "What about at school?"

She avoided looking him in the eye, "All the kids in my class are a lot older than me," she told him.

So? He felt like asking. Half the time Felicity made him feel like he was the kid and she was the adult. "So who do you hang out with?"

"No one really," she told him. "Mostly I hang out in the library or the computer lab and when I'm not doing school work I write Malcolm. Oh, and sometimes I help in the cafeteria so they can teach me how to cook stuff which is fun."

Well, that was shitty. He shifted uneasily as he tried to think of something to say but came up blank.

"It's okay," she said with a half-smile as if reading his mind, "I get to hang out with you all summer, right? That's something."

"Yeah," he agreed, looking at her carefully, "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure," she said, staring at her bare feet as they swung back and forth through the open air.

"How…" he swallowed, "How long was your mom gone before you tried to look for her?"

A silence fell between them before she looked at him hesitantly, "I don't know," she said at last. "I was a lot younger then so it's kind of hard to remember. She would leave a lot but she usually came back…only…only the last time she didn't." Her cheeks burned dark red and her breathing increased slightly, "It would get kind of scary sometimes when I had to be in the apartment all by myself. I didn't—I didn't like being alone at night," she said glancing up at him, obviously embarrassed. "I was okay though. I did like I always did and waited. I didn't tell anybody she was gone and if people asked I'd say she was sleeping like she told me to, but then the landlord came in one day asking about the rent and I didn't know what to do. I just told him she wasn't there so he said that he was keeping her welfare checks along with our TV until she paid up or we'd have to leave." She crossed her arms, propping them on the rail, and tucked her face into them, her voice so low and muffled he had to strain to hear her. Without thinking about it, he reached out and stroked her back in small comforting circles like he had the night she had the allergic reaction. "He took the EBT card with the grocery money on it, too; said we could have it back when Donna made good on what she owed. I couldn't tell him or anybody that she was gone because she said if I told I'd get sent to the group home."

The way she said the words 'group home' send shivers up his spine. The seemingly innocuous words seemed to carry some hidden horror for her.

"Sometimes the lady next door would give me food but she was visiting her sister out of town," she said quietly. "Luckily it was early in the week when the landlord came so I had school. I'd get breakfast and lunch and I'd offer to help at the cafeteria sometimes or ask kids to give me their rolls and jello cups then take them home but Friday was coming and it was taco day." She looked at him, her expression solemn. "Not only was it taco day, which was like the best day ever, but we also got chocolate pudding cups and there was no way anybody was giving them up. Mrs. Wiseman was still gone and the landlord took away our TV and stuff so I couldn't trade anybody for anything, plus Donna's phone had been shut off for a while. I didn't know what to do or who to call."

Tommy ran his hand over his mouth and swallowed hard, his stomach lurching as she spoke. It was as if he could almost feel the fear she must have felt back then.

"The social workers asked me why I didn't tell a teacher but Donna used to tell me what they did to kids like me in the group home," she said hollowly. "She said if I ever told that's where I'd wind up and I just…" she took a shuddering breath, "So I thought if I could find her then maybe she'd come back." She frowned and looked up at him again, "It wasn't just about the rent and stuff either; I missed her."

"Did-?" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "Did she ever hurt you? When she was there did she hit you or anything?" He asked, dreading the answer but needing to know nonetheless.

"No," she said quietly. "She mostly didn't do much of anything. Most of the time she was too tired. She'd come home and sleep on the couch and I'd help her with her medicine sometimes."

"Her medicine?" He frowned.

She nodded, "She had to have shots or she'd get really sick. Sometimes she'd be shaking and I'd have to put the needle in for her."

At first he thought that she might have been a diabetic or something but then he realized what kind of shots the woman had probably needed to take so as not to get 'sick' and clenched his jaw, "Then what?"

"Sometimes she'd be really nice," she told him. "She had lots of friends who would come over to visit. Afterwards, they'd give Donna money and she'd buy me stuff." She looked at him, "That's kind of why I wanted to have a party; I never got to stay for any of the ones she used to have with her friends. Sometimes they'd ask her if they could party with me too but she always said no and made me go play across the street in the park until they left."

Tommy somehow managed to keep his expression calm as he breathed out slowly, his fists clenched tight. He didn't know whether to scream or burst into tears. He did his best but he couldn't disguise the strain in his voice as he spoke, "Did she ever come back?"

She shook her head, "I tried to find her but I got nervous and must have made a mistake which is how they busted me. I thought for sure I was going to the group home, that's what they said anyway, the social workers." The way she said 'social workers' wasn't much better than how she said 'group home'. "I wouldn't talk though," she told him. "I never ratted, not once; no matter what. Then Malcolm came and he made them leave me alone."

"How?" He frowned.

"I don't remember much, but he came with this lawyer who said his name was Al Owl and Mr. Owl told them that Malcolm was my guardian so I got to go with him instead of into the group home."

Al Owl? He thought in confusion and frowned, "Are you sure that was the guy's name? I've never heard of anybody who works for dad named Mr. Owl."

"That's what he said," she shrugged. "Mr. Al Owl."

"So then Malcolm took you back east to Gotham?" He asked her.

"First we stayed in a fancy hotel in Vegas," she said. "He introduced me to a man he said was his friend and he talked to me for a long time."

"Who?" He asked, frowning again.

"I don't remember," she said bumping her chin against the cold metal rail, "Reggie something."

"Reggie?"

"Yeah, he was really nice," she said softly, squinting in the darkness as if remembering, "Reggie O'Gould, something like that."

Reggie O'Gould? Weird. "What did he talk to you about?"

She shrugged again, "Just about school and stuff. He told me I was pretty then asked about my glasses and my allergies then they starting speaking in some other kind of language and he left. I remember that before he said goodbye, Mr. O'Gould called me his 'special treasure', gave me a doll, then told Malcolm to take good care of me no matter what, and that was it."

"He called you his 'special treasure'?" He frowned.

"Malcolm said it was what he called pretty little girls he liked, kind of how Malcolm calls me 'sunshine' sometimes," she smiled. "I liked Mr. O'Gould but I never saw him again after that. I asked if we could visit him once but Malcolm said he lives in an ashram in Tibet, so…"

Yeah, the ashram, he thought with a hint of bitterness. "So what happened after that?"

"Nothing. We just went to Gotham and I started writing Malcolm after that." She looked at him uncertainly, "You're not…?"

"What?" he frowned.

She bit her bottom lip, "You're not gonna tell anybody what I told you, right?"

"'Course not," he assured her quickly. "But you don't have anything to be ashamed of, just so you know. I mean, you did…" his jaw tightened, "You did better than most people could have done and you were just a kid." He felt himself choking up again and rubbed his hand over his eyes, unsurprised to feel the moisture of tears under his palm.

"Are you okay?" She asked in concern.

Unbelievable, he thought, chuckling slightly, "Yeah," he said dismissively. "Allergies." He inhaled sharply and offered her a patented Tommy Merlyn pirate's smile, "Like I said, you did better than I ever could have done in your position so you shouldn't be ashamed of anything, okay?"

Felicity, however, didn't look convinced, "That lady, Ollie's mom?"

"Moira."

"Yeah," she said quietly, "When she looked at me it made me feel bad, like I was dirty or something."

"She shouldn't have made you feel like that," he said with a hint of anger because, yeah, Moira had been acting off that day. Moira was kind of aloof most of the time but she was usually pretty warm around kids. For some reason though, she looked through Felicity like she was beneath her or something and it really bugged the shit out of him because he froze up and had no idea what to say while it was happening. It wasn't that she was being mean or anything, more like she was establishing boundaries, letting Felicity know that she wasn't really one of them which was weird because she never even looked at her. The whole time she was talking her eyes were on Malcolm. Maybe that's what bothered him the most about that day; that Moira spoke 'about' Felicity and not 'to' her as if she was were some sort of thing rather than a person.

"I don't like it when people look at me like that," she said in low tones.

"Who else looked at you like that?" He scowled.

"A few people," she hedged. "Some of the kids at my school hacked my records and started telling everyone that my mom was a bad person," she said quietly. "I know Donna wasn't…" she looked down at her feet, "Anyway, that's what Ollie's mom made me feel like."

"What happened to the kids who did that to you?" He asked, his blood boiling as he thought about going up to Gotham to hand out some well-deserved beat downs.

"I didn't rat or anything," she said with a hint of affront.

"It's not ratting if you tell on people who are being mean to you."

"Yeah, it is," she argued.

"So they just got away with it then?" Okay, now he really was taking a trip to Gotham.

"No, I just didn't rat."

He looked at her with a frown, "So did a teacher catch them, or…?"

"No, I just handled it on my own."

"How?"

"I drained their canteen funds and the stipend allowance in their school accounts so they couldn't buy any books or snacks. Plus, I gave their computers a virus so that every time they'd hit a key it sounded like farts and the more they tried turning down the volume the louder it'd get. I also may or may not have done to their grades what I did to you and Ollie's only in reverse."

"Wow," he breathed.

"I mean, they eventually fixed it because they were hackers, too, just not elite like me," she told him matter-of-factly. "They didn't mess with me again after that though. I also went back and made sure to erase Donna's records from the system so it never happened again."

"You are…kind of terrifying, you know that?" He said, looking down at her in a whole new light.

"Thank you," she said brightly.

"I'm not going to tell anybody," he promised her. "Bros remember?"

"Bros," she said copying his own solemn chin bob once more.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, scrubbing roughly before getting up, the thin metal of the widow's walk bouncing slightly under his abrupt movements. "Okay, we should go to bed. It's getting really late and we can figure out all the rest of this stuff with Ollie tomorrow." He watched as another shudder ran through her small frame and frowned, "Are you still cold?"

"No," she said shakily, her fingers wrapped tight around the metal railing.

"You're shaking," he pointed out. "Come on; get up and we'll go inside where it's warm." He waited for her to get up then looked at her in concern when she didn't, "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to let go of the rail," she said quietly.

"Why not?"

"I'm scared of heights."

He blinked, "If you're scared of heights then why would you climb out onto the roof?"

"You looked like you needed me," she said simply, her eyes huge behind the thick lenses she wore.

He looked down at her, his chest tightening with emotion, and picked her up. She yelped in fright as the ground suddenly fell away then clutched at him tightly as he carried her through the open window and into the pool house. He didn't put her down either, even after he walked them downstairs and headed out across the lawn back to the main house.

Felicity relaxed in his arms, her head tucked under his chin as he breathed in her smell; baby powder, the bright citrusy scent of her shampoo, and that little bit of sunshine that always seemed to cling to her even in the middle of the night.

"You know, even if we have a party, Ollie's still never going to believe that I'm fine with him snagging Laurel like that," he said easily as they entered the house.

"I'll think about it some more then, like you said, we'll come up with something tomorrow," she yawned sleepily as he carried her up the stairs, "Tommy?"

"Yeah, sunshine?"

"Can we sleep in my bed tonight? Yours really is kind of hard."

"Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: She Needs Me

Tommy walked into his dad's bedroom the next morning as he was getting dressed, grim determination in his bearing and expression.

Malcolm looked up in surprise as he finished knotting his tie, "Hey son, I'm kind of surprised to see you up this early. I thought you got in late last night."

"I left the party early," he said, leaning against the door frame. "By the time I got there it was pretty much over anyway."

"Fizzled out, huh?" Malcolm asked with a crooked smile as he tossed some extra socks in his suitcase that was lying open on the bed.

"Something like that. Are you taking off again?" He nodded towards the bags.

"I have a big meeting with some investors in China. I should be gone for a few days, no more than a week." He glanced up at him, "Are you sure you're going to be okay with Felicity?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Actually, Felicity is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What about her?" He asked as he adjusted his suspenders then sat on the edge of the bed.

"I want…I want her to stay here," he told him. "With me. You know, in Starling."

"I got that, which is why I told you I wasn't going to put her in the Princeton program," he said in mild confusion.

"No, I mean…" he took a deep breath, "I mean I don't her going back to Gotham at the end of the summer. I want you to enroll her in Starling Prep with me here."

"Son…" he began, his expression tense.

"I can take care of her," he promised. "I can. I know you're busy and you travel a lot, that's fine, but between me and Mrs. McGregor-"

"Tommy, I can't," he said, his face flushing slightly. "We can't."

"Dad, seriously," he frowned, taking a few steps into the room. "I can be responsible, I swear. I promise I won't screw it up."

"It's not that…" Malcolm said, his eyes dropping to the floor as he took a deep breath. "It's just…it's not possible, son. I'm sorry; Felicity needs to stay in Gotham."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "But why? You said you trusted me with her."

"I do," he nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Then prove it," He demanded. "Don't send her back to that school; let me take care of her."

"It's not that simple," he said quietly.

"I've never asked you for anything, Dad," Tommy said, his tone hardening. "Not once! I never asked you for anything, not even when you'd leave for months at a time without so much as a goodbye or a phone call."

"I know," he said in a subdued voice.

"Then give me this."

"I can't."

"You owe me," he said angrily. "You said it yourself just yesterday; you owe me! All I'm asking is that you not send her back to Gotham at the end of the summer. Let her stay here and—"

He cut him off, "Tommy, this is your senior year and then you're headed for Harvard, remember? What happens when you leave? You'll be gone and she'll still have at least another year before she graduates and heads off to MIT."

He paused, "I already thought of that and I was thinking that I could maybe take a year off—"

"No," he said firmly.

"A lot of people take a year off," he argued.

"Not to do this," he said firmly. "If you want to take a year off to travel or intern at Merlyn Global, fine; but—"

"So if I bummed my way through Europe, or accepted an internship at Merlyn Global where I'd be doing nothing but getting coffee and hanging out in the mailroom while people kiss my ass in order to get to you, that would be okay, but my taking that time off to be with Felicity isn't?" He argued, "That's a bunch of bullshit and you-!"

"Tommy!" Malcolm said, stopping him mid-rant. "It's not about that. The truth is—" He got to his feet and paced slightly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Tommy glowered at him, "The truth is what?"

"The truth is…" He took a deep breath, "I can't." As he began to argue again, Malcolm held up a hand to stop him, "I mean I literally can't; I don't have the authority to take her out of school like that."

"But you're her guardian," he said slowly.

"I am, yes," he nodded, "but it's complicated and—"

"Then explain it to me in small words because I thought being a guardian meant you were kind of like a parent," he said angrily. "That means you can take Felicity out of that school and enroll her anywhere you want to. God knows you've threatened me with military school enough!"

"I am her legal guardian but I'm also her father's executor which means I'm legally bound to the terms of his will," he grimaced. "He left very specific instructions regarding her care and he was adamant that she stay enrolled at the Gotham Academy for Gifted Students until she graduates."

"So what? He's dead," he said bluntly. "Just get that Mr. Owl guy on the phone and tell him she wants to stay here with us."

"Mr. Owl?" He asked in confusion.

"Yeah, the lawyer; the one Felicity said came to get her with you in Vegas. She said his name was Mr. Owl."

"Mr. Owl," Malcolm repeated, looking mildly concerned. "What else did she tell you?"

"Just some stuff," he said, looking down at his shoes, "Nothing much." He looked back up at him, "The point is that you're her guardian and, you said it yourself, she's too isolated at that school. At least here she'll be with people who can take care of her. Can't you just, I don't know, sue somebody or get a court order or something?"

"Son…" Malcolm rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, "It's…complicated; it's a…trust issue."

"So, what? She won't get her inheritance if she goes to a different school?" He scowled, "That's bullshit!"

"Tommy, son, it's a good school," he said, his voice calm but his expression tense, "It's one of the top boarding schools in the country and they only accept the best and brightest. Felicity is good there, she's been there for a long time and the entire staff loves her. It's her home."

He blew out a frustrated breath and said, "Fine, you know what? If it's so great then maybe you should enroll me there, too."

"What?" The other man looked up in surprise.

"Send me to Gotham," Tommy said off-handedly. "I can finish out my senior year back east with Felicity."

"Tommy, what has gotten into you?" He asked in confusion.

"I'm not sending her back there alone," he said plainly, "so either send me to Gotham Academy or have her transferred here to Starling."

"What about your friends, everything you have going on here; Ollie?"

"I don't care about any of that stuff and Ollie will be fine," he shrugged.

"I know you care about Felicity, and you have no idea how happy that makes me, but she's doing perfectly fine at the—" He began.

"No, she's not!" Tommy snapped. "She's not happy there and…" He took a centering breath, "Send me to Gotham if you can't bring her here. Choose one or the other but if you don't let me go, then we're done."

"Done?" He frowned.

"I get my inheritance from Grandpa Bob and Nana when I turn eighteen. I'll take off and you'll never see me again," he said firmly.

Malcolm smirked, "Son, your mom's parents were comfortable but they weren't rich people and they tended to be very conservative in the way they invested. They set up that trust at a time when inflation rates were a lot more stable and it's mostly in tea bills that have a set growth potential…"

"There's at least a million dollars in there," he argued. "That's plenty of money; more than most people have."

"For someone used to living on a budget, maybe," he agreed, "but you've never had to worry about money a day in your life. A million dollars might look like a lot of money to a person who's never had it but…" he shook his head and sighed, "What are you going to do, son? Get an apartment up in Gotham?"

"Yes."

He looked at him in bemusement, "Then what? Get a job?"

"Yes," he said defensively.

"You've never worked a day in your life and you want to get a decent job in Gotham with zero references and no college education?" He said wryly. "Plus, do you have any idea how expensive Gotham real estate is? A million dollars might buy you a decent condo but then you'd still have to pay maintenance fees, utilities, food…"

"I don't need a million dollar condo," he retorted. "I can rent something cheap, live off of the interest until I figure it out, but I'm not leaving Felicity up there alone."

"Do you know how much money that is?" His father asked. "Maybe twenty five grand a year before taxes *if* you're lucky. Frankly, you'd make more money per year working at an entry level position in the mailroom at Merlyn Global."

"Like I said, I'll figure it out," he said stubbornly. "Between that and whatever job I get I'll be fine until Felicity graduates."

"Why are you so determined to do this?" He asked again. "Did Felicity say something to you? You said she's not happy; did something happen at her school? What don't I know? If you tell me I can contact the headmistress and have it taken care of."

"No, it's not…like that," he said in frustration, "It's just—she's alone and I know what it feels like to be left behind or forgotten and she doesn't deserve that."

Malcolm flinched as though he'd been struck then glanced at the door pensively, "Is Felicity up yet?"

"She's downstairs helping Mrs. Mack with breakfast," he said, his jaw set.

"Close the door and sit down," he instructed him. "Please," he added when he hesitated. As soon as the door shut he indicated for him to sit down on the chair near the bed as he got to his feet. He paced back and forth, his eyes troubled, "Okay, what I'm about to tell you…" He paused, "You can never tell Felicity, do you understand?" He said in low tones, "You can never tell anyone."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"I mean it; no one can know about this, not even Ollie and especially not Felicity. I'm trusting you with this, son," he said with an almost frighteningly intense expression on his face. So much so it sent chills down his spine.

"I won't tell anybody," he promised. "What is it?" Tommy said giving him an assessing look. His father seemed almost…afraid, and Malcolm Merlyn was never afraid; not of anything or anyone ever.

"What I'm about to tell you is…" he expelled a harsh breath, "It's dangerous information; information I shouldn't even be…" Malcolm leaned toward him, his eyes dark and penetrating. "It's about the circumstances surrounding Felicity's birth and why she can't come here to live with us permanently."

"What does that mean, 'the circumstances surrounding her birth'?" Tommy asked, his brow furrowing.

"Felicity's parents…" He took a deep breath, "First off, they weren't actually married to each other."

He felt his lips twitch upwards in comic relief, "Uh, dad, that's not exactly a shocking revelation."

Malcolm, however, was not amused, "Not only weren't they married, but they'd never even met."

"I don't…?" He said shaking his head in confusion.

"Donna and Felicity's father had never met each other; they'd never even been within a thousand miles of each other. She didn't know who he was; she was a surrogate."

"Now I'm really confused," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If Donna was a surrogate, which is nuts because who the hell would ask a crack ho to carry their kid, why did she have Felicity with her all this time? Where were her real parents?"

"That's where things get complicated," he said with a rueful look as he sat down on the edge of the bed across from him. "Felicity's biological father…" He stopped and wrung his hands in front of him nervously.

"What?" He asked, seeing the strange look his father was giving him, "It's you, isn't it? Felicity's my test-tube sister, isn't she? Oh God, is mom her bio-mom? She is, isn't she? What did you do; have them take her eggs, or harvest them or whatever at the hospital after she died? Holy crap! This is like some serious messed up shit! How could you keep something like that from me this entire time?!"

"No!" He said quickly, "Where would you even-? I did not have them harvest eggs from your mother's dead body! Where the hell would you even come up with something like that? What's wrong with you?" He asked angrily.

"Sorry, I-!"

"That's sick!" Malcolm spat, flushing crimson. "And why the hell would I-?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry!" Tommy said quickly.

"Where would—what—why would you even assume I'd do something like that?" He burst out, his face ruddy with outrage.

"Well, you gave me that weird look! What else was I supposed to think?" He backtracked helplessly.

"What you were supposed to think was anything but that! I'm not Felicity's father and your mother isn't her 'bio-mom'!" Malcolm said with a scowl. "First off, do the damn math, Tommy! Your mother was still alive when Felicity was born! Secondly, if she was our daughter don't you think we would have raised her ourselves or told you about her?" He growled.

"Uh, you never tell me anything so, yeah," he shrugged.

Malcolm glared at him, "Well I'm telling you now; Felicity is not your sister."

"Okay," he said still looking at him slightly distrustfully.

"She's not your sister!" He said firmly.

"Okay, Jeez!" He said, throwing his hands up in defeat before looking at his father carefully, "But…you know, just for the record; you're absolutely positive that there is zero chance of me having any surprise siblings out in the universe, right?"

Malcolm gave him a cold look, "I am perfectly aware of exactly how many children I have. Unfortunately."

"And you never did anything while you and mom…?" He let his voice trailed off.

"Absolutely not! Your mother and I were completely devoted to each other," he said with an edge of anger. "I was the only man in her life and she was the only woman in mine!"

"Just checking," he said sheepishly.

"Consider it checked," Malcolm bit out. "How you could even doubt my loyalty to your mother is beyond me."

"Sorry, dad," he said in a much more subdued tone.

"You should be!" He barked. "Where in the hell you would even-" His lips twisted in a grimace and, for a second there, Tommy honestly thought Malcolm was going to skip the usual threats and just clock him in the jaw.

"I am," he said quickly, "I'm very, very sorry."

"Fine," the other man said, rubbing his hand across his mouth, his jaw still clenched in anger.

"So, uh, you were saying about Felicity?" He said, a bit more respectfully this time.

"Felicity," Malcolm threw him one last stern look before continuing, "Back in the 90's, laws about surrogacy were almost nonexistent. Even now, less than half the states in this country address it at all and it's even illegal in some countries. Of course, there are ways around that sort of thing but there were…further complications as well," he said grimly.

Tommy sank back into the chair slightly, "Like what?"

"Felicity's biological father was a very powerful man. He wanted an heir but his wife had died several years before and he was old and in failing health. He did have three children already; a son who he believed had passed away and two daughters whom he was estranged from. And by estranged, I mean that both his daughters were suspected to have been behind a few assassination attempts against him and each other."

Tommy's jaw dropped, "Are you serious?"

"Very."

Wow, and he thought he and Malcolm's relationship could get tense, "Who was this guy?"

"As I said, a very powerful man; I can't tell you anything more than that," Malcolm said enigmatically.

"Why not?" He frowned.

"Because," his jaw clenched, "it's for your own safety, son; her father was…you might say he was someone with a great deal of power and reach, and who lived a very dangerous lifestyle. He was also extremely old world in that he believed he needed a son to carry on his legacy. Both of his daughters and some of his enemies were looking to fill the power vacuum his death would cause and he knew that if he attempted to father a child then they would go after the mother before it was born, so some of his advisors suggested hiring a surrogate who could secretly carry the child to term, then he could have the child educated in this country, far from the reach of his enemies. He agreed and a search for the perfect 'vessel' began."

"Vessel?" Tommy repeated.

Malcolm nodded.

"Okay, now I know you're screwing with me," he grimaced. "Are you seriously telling me Felicity is some kind of secret princess?" When Malcolm didn't respond but merely continued to stare at him with that same level gaze, Tommy felt all the blood drain from his face, "Oh shit, seriously?"

"He wasn't a king exactly," Malcolm told him after a moment's pause, "More like a clan leader or General. He was powerful however, and to some people he was seen as a visionary and a leader, but to others…"

"What?"

"Well, some people saw him as a…" He cleared his throat, "Well, a…terrorist."

Holy fuck, Tommy swallowed. "Terrorist?"

"Do you understand now why you can't say anything?" Malcolm asked him, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Her father made a lot of enemies, powerful enemies, and if anyone knew Felicity was alive and who her father was they'd come after her and us."

"Got it," he said breathing out shakily. Something occurred to him then, "This is an IRA thing, isn't it?"

Malcolm's eyebrows drew together at that, "What?"

"That's why they came to you, isn't it? Because our family is from Scotland?" Tommy said, his eyes getting big. "Oh wow, I didn't even know Scottish people could be in the IRA."

"What?" He said incredulously. "The IRA?"

"We're secretly members of the IRA, aren't we?" Tommy murmured in a low whisper. "If we are, that's cool. I mean, not cool as in 'bombing people is cool' because it's not; not cool at all! I just mean 'cool' as in 'I can keep a secret' kind of cool."

"No," Malcolm said dumbfounded, "Where the hell did you get the idea that this had anything to do with the IRA?"

"Because of that guy," he said with a significant look.

"What guy?"

He shifted closer to his father, "The guy Felicity told me she met with you and Mr. Owl; the Irish guy."

"What Irish guy?" Malcolm scowled.

"Reggie O'Gould; he's her father, isn't he?"

Malcolm looked at him blankly for a moment before looking away, his hand covering his eyes as if pained, "Felicity said his name was 'Reggie O'Gould'?"

"Yeah, it's him, right?" Tommy asked.

Malcolm ran his hand over his mouth and looked towards the ceiling for a moment before speaking, "No, no her father's name isn't 'Reggie O'Gould', nor am I a secret member of the IRA."

"Oh, okay," he said feeling almost disappointed. Not that he wanted his dad to be a political extremist, but still.

"However, he is connected to this," he added. "it's a sort of, um, I suppose you could say it's an alias he sometimes uses so you can't ever mention the names…" he cleared his throat, "'Reggie O'Gould' or 'Mr. Owl' to anyone, understood?"

"Okay, I promise," he told him, then frowned. "So who was this guy and why did he pick Donna to be his Baby-Mama? Also, how was he a terrorist and where is he from if he isn't Irish because Felicity definitely isn't Middle Eastern?"

Malcolm took a deep breath, "No one really knows where he's from originally. As for what he was involved with, while he wasn't in the IRA, he was a political activist and a very powerful man who had contacts in, shall we say, less than reputable places."

"Was he in the mob?" Tommy asked, suddenly beginning to feel a bit excited. "Is she like a mafia princess or something?"

"You could say that," he said reluctantly. "As for why he picked Donna as his surrogate, he didn't."

Tommy looked at him askance, "Huh?"

"He didn't choose her, " Malcolm told him. "That's what led to all of this to begin with. He wanted to find a surrogate so he…delegated."

He blinked, "Delegated?"

"He contracted the job of finding a suitable woman to carry the child out to someone else," he explained. "He didn't want to be connected to her in any way so he had someone else do it for him using very specific criteria. He wanted someone smart, attractive, and who would be open to carrying his child to term then giving it up because, even though he was the biological father, legally he had to 'adopt' her in order to legitimize her since this was a surrogate pregnancy and the mother was also the egg donor. He also needed someone his enemies couldn't find which is why he insisted there be no contact between them. She was to believe that his employee was the father and he would take possession of the child then deliver it to him. He also wanted his child's mother to be both smart and beautiful and Donna, although she lacked the same level of intelligence Felicity possesses, had street smarts and was very attractive, at least that's what I was told. She was a grifter, specializing in low level identity theft, check kiting, and tourist scams, and she used her looks to her full advantage. She got in deep with some of his associates who introduced her to his middleman. It was agreed that if she would carry the child to term that all her debts would be erased, she would be given a home and all her expenses would be paid, plus she'd receive a million dollars as payment in exchange for granting him full custody."

"But this O'Gould guy wasn't her father, right?" He frowned. "Was he the middleman then or what?"

"He's...well, he's the man who became her father's heir after he died," he said reluctantly.

"So it was his son? Didn't he die, too?" He asked.

"Like I said, it's complicated," Malcolm said wearily. "All you need to know is that after Felicity's biological father died, his estate was passed down to another member of the family."

Tommy took a moment to absorb that, "So if he paid her a million bucks then why didn't Donna give her up?"

"She didn't give her up because he never paid her."

"Why not?"

Malcolm sighed, "As I said, he wanted a boy and when he found out it was a girl he wanted her to terminate and try again."

"What an asshole," he scowled.

"Well, as I said, he was very old world about some things and the whole point of doing this was to have a son. Donna refused to terminate, not out of any moral objections but because she wanted her payday so, rather than argue the point, they renegotiated. He offered to pay her a lesser amount for the girl and agreed to take her off her hands if she would agree to a second pregnancy, this time with the understanding that he would only pay if she had a son."

"Uh…" his nose wrinkled at that, "Look, I may not have paid a lot of attention during biology class but…"

Malcolm grimaced in sympathy, "I don't have all of the details but my understanding is that he hired a doctor to ensure that only male sperm were used as a simple insemination was the least invasive method available but obviously that failed because she became pregnant with a girl instead. With the second pregnancy, she would have to agree to undergo IVF which was far more invasive but, in exchange, he would double her fee. Donna agreed because she wanted to keep the money. In the meantime though, she began to grow restless. She was more than half-way through one pregnancy and already looking at another as he wanted her to undergo the treatments as soon as the baby was born. She began using drugs and alcohol to alleviate some of the boredom and stress."

Tommy felt his stomach clench, "She used drugs when she was pregnant with Felicity?"

"Yes," he said, his expression grim. "She managed to hide her substance abuse from the man's employee but one night, when she was around 27 weeks into her pregnancy, she went out, scored some drugs, and got into a serious car wreck. This led to Felicity being very sick at birth. The doctors doubted she'd survive and said, if she did, that she'd have a 1% chance of being normal without any sort of developmental delays. Additionally, they said that because they had to put her on high dose oxygen due to some breathing issues, there was a good chance she'd go blind."

"But Felicity is fine," he scowled. "I mean, she wears glasses and she's a little small but she's fine."

"At the time they didn't know that," Malcolm pointed out. "The man hired to find Donna and watch over her panicked. He basically dropped the ball and was afraid his employer would come after him so he told him that the baby died then warned Donna to keep her mouth shut and her head down if she knew what was good for her which is why he never claimed her."

He swallowed, "So why didn't she just put Felicity up for adoption and why didn't social services take her away at birth?"

"I don't know," Malcolm said honestly. "My best guess is that Donna took off with her before they came; we just don't know. I'd like to think that her mother genuinely did care about her but she just didn't have the coping skills necessary to raise a child on her own. She tried for a while I think. I managed to find out from a private investigator that she held down a few waitressing jobs from time to time, but she couldn't stay away from the drugs in the end. Like I said, I'd never met her so I really can't say for sure."

He scratched his head, "So how did you get tangled up in all this?"

"That's…it's complicated." He leaned forward, resting his knees on his elbows before speaking, "Someday when you join the company, you'll find out that sometimes you have to dance with the devil in order to get things done. In this case, I met…Reggie," again he hesitated slightly over the name, "at the ashram in Tibet after your mother died. We became close since we were both running away from things," he gave him an apologetic look, "I was running from my grief and he'd faked his death in order to get away from his father's world. After his father died, he came back to claim his estate and settle the in-fighting once and for all. Once things were settled we began a business relationship based upon the trust and friendship we'd built together. It was mutually beneficial since I needed to break into some markets throughout Asia and Russia where his family already had a foothold and he, in turn, wanted to legitimize his family's interests and do away with the past. As he began to dismantle his father's illegal holdings, certain parties became upset and thought he was pushing them out. The man who knew about Felicity and Donna joined forces with one of the daughters and began to talk." He took another deep breath and looked squarely at Tommy, "You see, Felicity was meant to be his sole heir and his most recent will reflected that. Without the baby, his lawyers were forced to go by an earlier will which named his son as his sole heir. His sisters, still up in arms over their brother's return, felt they could use her to claim the entirety of their father's estate. Once that happened, Felicity's life would be forfeit; they'd claim her, get the estate then once that was done…"

"They'd kill her?" He said incredulously.

"Probably," he nodded. "Already there were people hunting for them. When Donna disappeared he knew he needed to act quickly in order to save her life."

He ran his hand over his mouth as he absorbed that, "You think they killed her mom?"

"Either that or she took off at the first sign of trouble and figured Felicity was safer on her own. After all, they wanted Felicity, not her; she was expendable. She was an identity thief which would explain why she never popped up again, but who knows? It may well be that she overdosed and her body was just never identified. In any case, Felicity was in danger and he didn't know who else to trust. He couldn't take her so he asked me to become her guardian instead. He knew that I had powerful connections here in the States and that I could see to it she was kept safe."

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why would you do that?" Tommy asked with a frown.

"He was my friend and I wanted to maintain our professional and personal relationship," Malcolm shrugged. "Besides, she was just a child; I couldn't say no. I was only supposed to handle her trust, not actually take custody of her, but as time passed we became close. I wanted her to have a family and asked for permission to bring her into our home on the odd holiday. They reluctantly agreed but they wanted her enrolled in Gotham Academy for the same reason many powerful people send their daughters there; the education they can provide is second to none, the facility is secure, practically impenetrable, in fact, and they know people on staff who can keep them informed of her progress. I doubt they'd agree to allow me to remove her from their care permanently."

"I don't know, dad; this whole thing sounds pretty crazy," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in confusion. "It just…something seems off."

"Tommy, son, would I lie to you about something like this?" Malcolm asked, reaching out to squeeze his knee comfortingly.

"I…guess not," he said although, truth be told, he wasn't all that sure. "Okay, I get all the secrecy but can you at least ask them? Starling Prep is pretty elite, too; lots of kids whose parents are rich or politically connected go there. I mean, I get what you're saying but it stands to reason that we could protect her better if she was here with us and not on the other side of the country. You could even agree to hire her a bodyguard or something."

"I can try," Malcolm said reluctantly. He got up from the corner of the bed and looked down at him, "Remember what I said though; Felicity can't know about this and neither can anyone else. If this gets out her life and ours could be in jeopardy."

He frowned and shifted in his chair uncomfortably, "Okay, but Dad, if she's really in that much danger shouldn't we go to the cops?" He asked him. "The FBI, CIA, somebody?"

"We could," Malcolm said slowly, "but Tommy, these are very powerful people who have contacts everywhere. If they've paid someone off…"

"You think they paid off the cops?" He asked in surprise.

"All I know is that Donna's case never went anywhere," he told him. "She disappeared and yet no one went looking for her. Maybe that's because she had a record and the cops just weren't that interested, but who knows? Not only that but, even if they aren't on the take, they'll most likely take Felicity into protective custody and we'd never see her again."

He blanched, "They can't do that, can they?"

"They can do whatever they want," Malcolm told him. "I have some pull but that only goes so far. In fact, because of who we are, they'd probably want to make an example out of me just to prove that no one is above the law. I would probably go to jail for my part in all of this even though all I was trying to do was protect her."

"Shit," Tommy breathed.

"Look, I never wanted to burden you with this. This was my choice, not yours, but I did it to keep you both safe. However, now that you know, I'm trusting you to keep this a secret, do you understand?" He said firmly then waited for his nod. "I know you care about her, son; I do, too. The best thing you can do for her and for yourself is forget about everything I told you and continue to do well in school so that you can go to Harvard after you graduate."

"Okay, so I get why Felicity might not be able to come here, but why can't I still take a year off or go to college in Gotham instead?" He asked him.

Regret filled his father's expression, "Again, I didn't want to lay this at your feet, son, but the truth is that if you don't go to Harvard then Felicity can't go to MIT."

"What?" He blinked.

"I can't risk her going to MIT alone and she's always wanted to go there, ever since she was old enough to know what MIT was," he said in low tones. "I've been putting off telling her that she can't go for a while now but, after your grades improved, I thought there was a chance I wouldn't have to."

"So wait, if I don't get into Harvard then where is Felicity supposed to go?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She may have no choice but to hold off going to college until she's a legal adult. If that happens then it's likely she'll be removed from our custody. I have no idea where they'd send her but I imagine it will probably be somewhere far from here." At Tommy's crestfallen expression he hastened to add, "However, that's not something you should worry about. No matter what happens, Felicity will be safe, I promise. If you want to take a year to travel or go to school somewhere else, we'll figure it out."

"No, I'll do it, Dad," he said quickly. "I don't need to take a year off. If Felicity wants to go there then I'll do what you said and go to Harvard."

"Tommy…"

"I can do it, okay?" He said getting to his feet, "I was planning on really buckling down this year anyway so we're good."

"I don't want to put any undue pressure on you, son," Malcolm said, clapping his hand on his shoulder.

"This is my choice," he told him. "I can handle it."

"Tell you what," Malcolm said slowly, "You show me how responsible you can be for the rest of the summer, maybe start by cutting down on the partying and really stepping up to the plate with Felicity, and I'll try to get them to let me transfer her to Starling Academy in the Fall." He started to speak but he cut him off, "I said I'll try; no guarantees, and I know you've been really on the ball when it comes to her but it's only been a couple of weeks. I need to see more. If I think you can handle it, I'll go to bat for you, I promise."

"Thanks, dad," he said gratefully.

"Another thing, son, you know Robert and Moira are some of my closest friends and I like Ollie, I do, but I don't feel comfortable with Felicity spending too much time around him or some of your other friends," he said firmly. "The drugs and the drinking bother me." Tommy started to object but he cut him off, "Don't even bother to deny it because I've already heard Robert talk about how out of control he's gotten this past year, and I can't have her exposed to that."

"I…agree," Tommy said after a moment's pause. "I'll be sure to keep that stuff away from Felicity and, as for Ollie..." he grimaced, "If he does come over I'll make sure he knows he has to be completely sober."

"The first time I hear from Mrs. Mack or anyone else that Ollie or any of your friends exposed Felicity to that stuff…" Malcolm warned.

"That won't happen, I swear," he said resolutely.

"Also…" He gave him a steady look, "I know you've experimented with pot; I'm not an idiot. I know what marijuana looks and smells like, and I will admit to doing a few things myself when I was your age that I'm not particularly proud of, but that stops now. If I catch you with drugs then she goes straight back to Gotham."

"I won't—I haven't," he said hurriedly. "I stopped as soon as Felicity came to stay with us and I got rid of all of that stuff. If you don't believe me you can search my room."

"I believe you," Malcolm said easily, "but that also means you can't do that stuff when you're out either. That means no drinking, no drugs; nothing. If you get caught then they might take her away from us."

"I'm done with that stuff," Tommy said again. "All of it."

"Okay," he smiled then pulled him into a quick embrace, patting him on the back before releasing him. "Tommy, I want you to know that I'm very proud of you, I really am, and I trust that you'll do right by Felicity and our family."

"Thanks, dad," he nodded. "I won't let you down."

Malcolm's grin widened at that, "I know you won't, son."

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As soon as the town car pulled out of the drive, Malcolm put up the partition and dialed.

"Why are you calling me?"

He pushed down his annoyance at the other man's insolent tone as he answered, "I need to speak to Ra's al Ghul."

"For what reason?"

"I need to speak to him in regards to the treasure that was placed in my care."

There was a pause, "What about the treasure?"

"That's between the master and myself," he said coldly.

"When you speak to me, you are speaking to Ra's al Ghul," the other man said with a hint of anger.

Malcolm's lips quirked upwards at that, "I don't think so."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Magician," the other man's voice dropped to an icy registry. "Think twice before seeking to disrespect me or usurp my position with our master."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Malcolm asked. "That 'our master' would choose me to guard his most precious treasure instead of you, his 'First'?"

"The girl is nothing," he said dismissively. "A mistake; a failed experiment. She is inferior and he cares nothing for her which is why he chose you to care for her in the first place."

"If she's so unimportant then allow me to speak to the master directly."

He could practically hear the other man seething with anger from the other end of the line, "Hold."

A few minutes later another voice came over the phone, "What is it you wish to speak to me about, Saher?"

Malcolm bowed his head slightly out of habit as the voice of Ra's al Ghul came over the line, "Master. I wish to speak to you in regards to the treasure placed within my care."

"And what of the treasure?" He asked. "I trust all is well?"

"Yes, master," he told him. "In fact, I was hoping that you would give me permission to take her into my household on a more permanent basis."

"And what does that mean, 'a more permanent basis'?"

Malcolm felt a chill run down his spine at the other man's tone and took a moment's pause before answering, "I wish to keep her here in my home rather than send her back to Gotham in the fall, master."

"Oh?" He said with deceptive calm. "And why is this?"

"My son, Thomas, has grown quite attached to her and she to him. She's become important to my family and, according to my son, has expressed a desire to remain here. You instructed me to see to it her wants were met and she wants nothing more than to be a more permanent fixture within our household."

Several tense moments passed before he heard the other man's voice once more, "You wish to make my treasure your own, Magician? Is that what you're telling me?"

Malcolm froze, "I...meant no disrespect, master. I…"

"No," Ra's said cutting him off. "No, I will allow this. I will grant your request, Saher, but only if you agree to make my treasure your own."

"I don't understand," he said in confusion.

"Although, as the First said, her value to me is less than what I had hoped for, she is still one of my treasures," Ra's said with quiet assurance. "I have no place for her here, but I still wish for her to be cared for as she is still my child. As such, I will gladly grant your request so long as you swear to me that she will be in all ways your child as well. She will be treated as such within your household, her status will be equal to that of your blood heirs, and she will have equal claim to your estate upon your death."

"Of course," he said quickly. "I already think of her as the child I never had. I'll make the arrangements as soon as possible and send Al Owal copies of any and all legal documents."

"That is good," the other man said in a pleased tone. "In addition, you will give her an education and a position of respect within your company should she wish it. You will also see to it she makes a suitable match when the time comes. I am not so stuck in the past that I would insist on an arranged marriage but I do expect you to make sure that the man she eventually chooses is worthy of her."

"Yes, master."

"Another thing," his voice took a dark turn, "I am not unaware of your ambitions, Saher. I chose you specifically because you are a man who seeks to conquer. I understand the loss you felt at your wife's death and the thirst for vengeance that comes with it, but I have forbidden you from taking the actions you seek."

"I haven't…" He frowned.

"Do not seek to deceive me, Magician," the other man said tersely. "I have been made aware of your plans as well as the troubles brewing between you and the other."

His brow furrowed at that, "The other, master?"

"Al-Mamlaka al-MuttaHida."

The Queen's Gambit; in other words, Robert.

"There is no trouble between myself and Robert Queen," he assured him.

"That is not what his concubine tells us."

Malcolm's lips curled up in a sneer, "Isabel Rochev? She's nothing but a bitter woman and one of Robert's many conquests. He cut her loose recently so I'd take anything she says with a grain of salt."

"Oh?" He said in an almost bored tone. "Then what she told us about your continued plans in regards to this 'Undertaking' isn't true then?"

Malcolm felt his heart clench in his chest but kept his voice steady, "Correct. As I said, it's merely the rantings of a bitter and unhinged young woman."

"Hmm, and I suppose she was also lying when she said that you left your bastard in the belly of Queen's wife?"

"What?" He said in surprise.

"The girl; she's yours, is she not?" He asked. "Is that why you seek my treasure, Magician? Because Queen has taken yours as his own?"

"Isabel told you that Thea's my daughter?" He said numbly.

"You did not know?" Ra's asked in amusement.

"No," he said quickly. "Master, it's not true; I assure you that if I—"

"I do not care about your petty dramas, Saher; only that you show me obedience and loyalty. I fear, however, that your friend may not be as trustworthy. Especially if he is as indiscriminate in his affairs as he appears to be. It upsets me that this Rochev woman would be so bold as to approach me with this information; it means that Queen has no control over his women and has been indiscreet in his dealings with them and with us. While I find your own actions somewhat distasteful, we have all been lured in by a beautiful woman at one time or another and I can at least admire your wisdom in choosing a woman like Moira Queen. This Rochev women, however…"

"Say the word and I'll slit her throat myself," he swore.

"No need," Ra's told him. "She's nothing. Robert Queen however…"

"Robert is loyal, I assure you."

"You trust him?" Ra's asked. "Even after you have cuckolded him? And do not bother denying it a second time, Saher. I knew of your affair long before the Rochev woman brought it to my attention."

"I told Robert about my affair with Moira and he forgave me," he admitted.

It was the truth. He'd always had an attraction to Moira but had never acted on it until that one weekend almost six years previously. Robert had temporarily moved out of their home and into The Marchioness following the revelation that he had gotten his secretary pregnant. Moira, understandably upset over the whole thing, had seduced him in revenge and he, having been celibate since Rebecca's death, allowed it to happen. Shortly after their affair, the secretary 'disappeared' and Robert moved back home. Malcolm, feeling guilty over his betrayal of their friendship, admitted the affair and Robert immediately forgave him for it. In the back of his mind though, he always questioned the timing of the pregnancy but Robert and Moira both insisted that Thea was the very image of his late mother so he let it go. Now he had to wonder what other secrets Robert had been keeping from him but he couldn't let Ra's know that.

"I trust Robert Queen like my own flesh and blood," he said resolutely.

"Even after his disastrously indiscrete relationship with the Rochev woman which has led to her allegations that he is still planning to take part in this so-called Undertaking?" He asked. "Are you willing to gamble the lives of your children on that?"

He froze.

"Listen well, Malcolm Merlyn," Ra's said in a low threatening growl that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, "I grant you custody of the treasure; I will put her in your care and trust you to see to her happiness. In exchange, however, you will again swear your loyalty to me and the League."

"Yes, master," he said without hesitation.

"I will be watching you. Although she is weak, as I said she is still my treasure. If any harm comes to my precious one or to the city she calls her home, I will hold you personally responsible."

He swallowed, "Yes, master."

"Blood for blood, Magician," he warned him. "So long as my treasure is safe, so are yours." His breath caught in his throat at that, "For now I will choose to believe that Queen's whore is, as you say, merely a woman scorned. However, should I discover that you've lied to me or that the man you have vouched for plans to disobey my orders, I will take my retribution. Do you still believe in what this man says? That he is loyal to both you and the League?"

"If Robert betrays you or the League then I will kill him myself; you have my word," he promised.

"I will hold you to that, Magician," he told him just before ending the call.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

He woke up to a face full of curls and sunshine and pulled the small body closer for a moment so he could savor the feeling before opening his eyes and looking down with a sleepy grin. Felicity's mouth was wide open and she was drooling, her hair looked like a rat's nest, and her breath had a definite sour milk scent from the hot cocoa they drank just before bed. Still, she was his and that was enough for him.

His dad had called the night before to tell him that he'd gotten permission to take her out of her school and enroll her in Starling Prep in the fall. There had been the usual warnings about holding up his end of the deal and so on but all he could hear was that she was his. She was his. Even though Ollie had crapped all over their friendship, even though Laurel was someone else's girl now, Felicity belonged to him and he was happy; really happy.

And more than a little bit scared.

Could you be scared and happy at the same time?

He was turning seventeen in just a few days and, for all intents and purposes, he was now a parent. His arms tightened around her as if he were reassuring himself that she was really there and she wasn't going away. Still, it was intimidating taking responsibility for another human being. Of course, he didn't think of Felicity as his kid, but that's basically what he was when it came down to it.

He let that sink in. No, not parent; a big brother maybe?

Actually, no, he frowned. Well, yeah. No…

It was weird; he couldn't really define what they were. Sometimes Felicity felt like his kid, someone he had to protect from the world. Sometimes she was a friend, sometimes a little sister, sometimes it was like having his mom back in the form of a (almost) thirteen year old girl. All he knew for sure though was that she was his; she belonged to him and he wasn't letting go. Crazy as it sounded even to him, she was the missing puzzle piece he didn't know he'd been searching for this whole time; the person who filled all those empty places that had been left behind the day his mom died and Malcolm took a runner.

He looked down at her and chuckled as she made a weird snuffling noise like a pig and buried her nose into his armpit. He didn't even care about the damp spot of drool on his t-shirt; he was just happy.

She was his; his little bit of Sunshine.

His dad had warned him not to tell her yet, that this arrangement was contingent on his towing the line, but he had the sudden urge to wake her up and tell her anyway. Part of him thought it was weird that he didn't feel the least bit resentful over the idea of giving up partying and hanging out with his bros to take care of a little girl, but he honestly didn't care. The only reason he ever partied to begin with was to fill time along with the empty place that Felicity now occupied. He didn't need it anymore, he had her now.

"Wake up, Sunshine," he said in a sleep fogged voice.

"No…" she grumbled and drew the covers over her head.

God, she was adorable even when she was being a grouch.

"Come on, Sunshine; I have something I have to tell you." He shifted in the bed until he was on his side facing her, her head still lying on his arm under the covers. He attempted to draw them down and off her face (attempted being the key word there) but she was holding on tenaciously to the last vestiges of sleep along with the brightly colored duvet.

"No talking; sleeping," she said in a surly tone muffled by the thick comforter and sheets.

Light poured in through the French doors leading to the balcony causing the early morning dew clinging to the glass to act as prisms casting rainbows on the walls. The fact, the whole room was flooded with light and color. Unlike his room which was kept dark by a combination of black out curtains, blinds, and teenage angst in the form of morose colors and disarray, Felicity's windows were covered in sheer filmy drapes that let the sun in. The effect was beautiful even if it wasn't conducive to sleeping in which is why she normally preferred sleeping in his bed but, ever since the night he caught Laurel and Ollie together, they'd been sleeping in hers. Despite all that, he had to admit the part of him not complaining about needing just fifteen more minutes, liked living in the light for once.

"C'mon, I want to talk!" He said, shaking her slightly. He almost felt like a kid on Christmas morning as he thought of how happy she'd be once he told her she never had to go back to Gotham ever again.

"So talk," she mumbled, pulling the covers tighter over her head. "I'm gonna sleep five more minutes."

"Felicity, wake up," he rolled his eyes at her antics before snatching the covers down and exposing her grimace to the sunlight. "Mrs. Mack has breakfast on; I can smell the bacon from here. Besides, I have a surprise for you. A few surprises actually."

"What?" She said squinting at him crabbily.

"You know, you are definitely not a morning person," he said wryly as he extricated his arm from behind her head to prop up his own as he looked down at her in amusement. "How do you want them; from good to great or vice versa?"

"Just tell me," she whined as she kicked out with her feet against the mattress.

"Well, first off, I thought we could talk to Mrs. Mack about letting me redecorate my room."

"Yeah?" She said with a frown as she opened one eye to peer blearily at him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I figured we could get a bed like yours since my mattress is crap and then you could help me pick out paint and stuff."

"Really?" She said perking up slightly. As soon as her mouth began to curve into a smile he felt his own answering grin come out to greet it.

"Yeah, but no pink," he warned her. "Or purple, or stuffed animals, and definitely nothing girly like dust ruffles or flowers or anything. It still has to look like a guy's room, okay?"

"Okay," she said eagerly. "Do we get to do the painting and stuff ourselves?"

"Eh, probably not a good idea," he said slowly. "Mrs. Mack will probably just hire a contractor or some decorators or something."

"Oh," she said slightly crestfallen.

"But," he said with a pause, "You get to be in charge and tell them what you want; furniture, paint, bedding, the works. I thought we could go to a furniture store and look around in order to get a few ideas, catch some lunch; we could make a whole day of it, just you and me…and possibly Mrs. McGregor unless I can talk her into letting us do it by ourselves, but you know how she can be so..."

"Cool!" She said brightening up again.

"And we still have to plan the party," he reminded her. "We could do that, too. Go to a party store, maybe pick up some stuff for the grill…"

"Did you call McKenna? Is she coming over?" She asked eagerly. "Maybe she could come with us?"

"Ah…" he grimaced, "No." Damn, he was kind of hoping she'd forgotten that part.

Felicity's face fell, "She's not coming?"

"No…" he cringed, "I mean, she might; I just haven't actually gotten around to calling her yet."

"Why not?" She demanded.

He ducked his head, "Um…"

She punched him in the gut causing him to expel a pained breath, "You chickened out? Seriously?"

"I didn't chicken out," he said, rubbing his stomach with a wince.

"What do you call it then?" She demanded.

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head, "Okay, yeah; I chickened out."

"Why?" She asked him. He shot her an embarrassed look and she sighed, "You're scared of a girl?"

"I'm not scared," he denied gruffly. "I'm just…"

"Scared," she supplied.

"Little bit, yeah," he said reluctantly.

"Why? It's not like you're asking her to be your girlfriend or anything," she reminded him. "You're just asking her to be your friend, remember?"

He snorted at that and flopped down on his back, his arm cradling the back of his head against the pillow, "Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, sitting up and looking down at him with a frown.

"It means that if I call her then she's going to automatically assume it's because I want to hook up with her."

"Why would she think that?" She asked in confusion.

He looked at her, "Because men and women can't just be friends." He shrugged, "It's biologically impossible."

"What?" She said incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Yup," he told her.

"Why?"

"It's a gonad thing."

"A gonad thing," she repeated slowly.

He nodded, "It's like hormonal; the minute a guy starts liking a girl or a girl starts liking a guy the hormones in their gonads kick into overdrive and friendship turns into an extended make out session."

She looked at him askance, "First off, do you even know what gonads are?"

"Yeah, do you?" He frowned.

"We do have health class at the Academy, so yes," she told him. "We even had to watch a movie where a bunch of girls at a slumber party compared boobs while they practiced kissing pillows in front of each other and talked about Frenching."

"What?" He blinked, sitting up and staring at her, "Seriously?"

She nodded, "Then they talked about cramps. It was fairly traumatic." She looked at him curiously, "Did you guys have to watch a movie?"

"Actually yeah, but yours sounds better," he frowned.

A lot better.

"What happened in the movie they made you guys watch?"

"Mostly it was about a bunch of guys holding notebooks in their laps after they popped a—" he paused and glanced at her, "uh, button."

She tilted her head, "A button?"

"Uh huh," he lied. "Do girls really do that?"

"Do what?"

"Kiss pillows and compare…stuff?" He asked.

"Not that I've ever noticed."

"Oh," he lay back on the bed, "Oh well, that's disappointing."

"Whatever," she said dismissively, "Now what did you mean when you said boys and girls can't be friends?"

"I meant that they can't be friends," he told her.

"Yes, they can!"

"No, they can't," he said firmly. "Men and women being just friends is an urban myth like Dewitos."

"Dewitos?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah," he said turning to look at her, "You know that urban myth about how they're supposed to come out with a Doritos flavored Mountain Dew?"

She looked at him in distaste, "Doritos flavored Mountain Dew?"

"Yeah, it sounds like a potentially good thing that could actually happen someday but probably never will."

"How is a Doritos flavored soda a good thing?" She shuddered.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked raising a superior eyebrow, "It's *Doritos* and *Mountain Dew* all at the same time; it's like, why haven't they done this already? Kind of like cheese flavored pork rinds with ranch; talk about a no brainer."

"Cheese what?!"

"Cheese flavored pork rinds with ranch," he told her. "You know, with that powdered cheese that turns your fingers orange on chips only with ranch, too."

"That sounds disgusting," she said flatly.

"Why?" He shrugged. "I mean, you like bacon, right? Basically, pork rinds are bacon Cheetos—"

She gaped at him, "Bacon Cheetos?"

He nodded, "Exactly, and bacon and cheese go together and everybody likes ranch so cheese flavored pork rinds with ranch." He paused, "I wonder if I could get a patent on that or something because you just know it's happening sooner or later." He shrugged again, "Anyway, the point is that even though it sounds good, it never happens in real life, trust me."

Felicity, still seemingly awestruck by the brilliance that was cheese flavored pork rinds, paused for a moment before shaking her head, "But I'm a girl."

He looked at her askance, "Yeah, so?"

Her brow furrowed, "So I'm a girl and you said we're friends, remember?"

"You don't count," he said dismissively.

"As a friend?" She asked in a hurt-filled voice.

"No!" He said drawing his eyebrows together in annoyance, "As a girl! Of course you're my friend, jeez!"

"Oh." She sat back then frowned again, "But I am a girl."

"No, you're not, you're a bro; there's a difference," he said off-handedly.

"Oh, okay," she said still looking confused. "So if I can be a bro then why can't McKenna?"

"I don't know; she just can't."

"But why?"

He sighed and turned onto his side again to face her, "She just can't, okay? Like I said, it's a gonad thing."

"I really don't think you know what any of those words mean and, if you do, then you're definitely misapplying them in this situation," she said shaking her head with a frown.

"Gonads are your junk," he said irritably.

"Your junk?" She repeated wide-eyed.

"Yeah, your junk, and there's girl junk and boy junk and they excrete all these junk vibes and stuff that counteract each other."

"Junk vibes," she said slowly. "Like pheromones?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "The point is that it's a scientific medical fact that men and women can't be friends once their mutual junk becomes activated."

She blinked then wrinkled her nose slightly, "Activated?"

"Yeah, activated," he confirmed. "You know, puberty."

"Oh," she nodded then tilted her head with a slight look of disgust, "'Puberty'. Did you ever notice how that word kind of sounds like something really disgusting? Pew-burt-tee," she said repeating the word slowly. "It sounds like a really smelly fart and burp combined like when you have a bad stomach from eating too much junk food."

"Huh," he thought about that, "'Puberty'," he sounded it out. "Yeah, actually it kind of does. Like, 'Hey man, don't go in there; we had chili dogs for lunch and I totally let loose with a giant puberty.'"

"Gross," she agreed. "Well, does that mean that when I get activated we can't be friends anymore?"

"No," he assured her. "You got in there before the statute of limitations was up so your bro status is automatically grandfathered in."

She pushed the hair off her face and peered at him myopically through narrowed eyes, "You've spent a lot of time thinking about this stuff, haven't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted as he lay back on his pillow. "Pot has a way of making you wax philosophical. Ollie used to say I should write a book called, 'The Wizard of Weed's Book Of Zen,' or something. It would probably be a best seller."

"You smoked drugs before?" She asked, her jaw dropping.

"Uh…no? Yes? I don't know how to answer that question…" He said suddenly feeling cornered.

Okay, so maybe this responsible parenting thing wasn't going to be quite as easy as he thought.

Making a split second decision he decided to just lay it all out on the line. He turned onto his side again and looked at her steadily, his face flushing in embarrassment, "Okay, yeah; I used to smoke pot, okay? But not anymore, so you shouldn't do that because drugs are bad."

Yeah, that…that sounded responsible and adult-like, right?

"When?" She asked wide-eyed.

"When what? When did I last smoke weed?" He asked her.

"Yeah."

Okay. "You remember when I thought Ollie gave you a pot brownie last week? That was the last time I smoked it and—"

"I did marijuana?" She exclaimed.

Oh shit.

"No," he said quickly.

"Oh my God, I did drugs!" She said in a panic as she sat upright. "I'm a drug user!"

"No, no, no!" He waved her off as he sat up as well.

She grabbed her head and began to breathe in and out rapidly, "I'm a pot head! They showed this film in school about how it fries your brain cells! I have brain damage! I can feel myself getting stupider already! Wait, 'stupider' isn't even a word! Oh God! I'm a junkie! A stupid junkie with brain damage and now I'll have to go to rehab and-!" Her eyes widened in panic, "This is like an after school special! Oh God, I need an intervention!"

"No!" He said, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look at him, "You did not use pot!"

"But you said-!"

"No," he said, attempting to calm her down. "Ollie made pot brownies, yes, but the brownie you ate just had nuts!"

"Are you sure?" She asked tremulously, her eyes filling with tears. "Because I think I can feel the pot in my brain still."

"First off, that's not how pot works, and secondly I'm sure that you did not eat a pot brownie," he said soothingly.

"But how can you be sure?" She asked again, her mouth wobbling. "You weren't even there when I ate it."

That's true, he thought before shaking it off, "I know because Ollie told me—"

"But he was all full of pot, too!" She insisted. "What if he got confused and mixed up the brownies? He's not that smart!" She began to whimper slightly, "They said in health class that if you do marijuana that it can affect your chromosomes and stuff so that your kids will come out all messed up! I might not ever be able to have kids now!"

"They did?" He frowned.

"Yeah!" She nodded vigorously. "Plus, there've been all kinds of studies that say that you lose like eight to ten IQ points if you do pot and that you never get them back!"

"Even if that were true you're a genius, right? I'm sure you can spare a few measly points…" he said uncertainly.

"Plus, it can cause cancer, psychosis, heart attacks—" She clutched her hand to her chest and looked down as if making sure hers was still beating. "And if you're a guy it can lower your sperm count and make you sterile!"

"Now I know for a fact that's not true," he huffed. "The other stuff, maybe, but if that was true then a lot more guys would be lighting up, let me tell you."

"No! It's a medical fact! In school-!"

"Okay, stop," he said, grabbing her shoulders as he attempted to calm her down. "You didn't eat a pot brownie, okay? Besides that was days ago—"

"But-!" She began wide-eyed.

"Felicity!" He said firmly, "Just listen, okay?" He sighed then sat back. "Okay, now, while drugs are bad," he emphasized, "a lot of the stuff they tell you in school is just there to scare you into never doing it."

"But there was a book…?" She said, calming somewhat.

"Yeah, there are lots of books," he said with a superior look, "that doesn't mean they're right. Look, I've been smoking pot for a while and I'm, like, plenty smart, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she said slowly.

"Exactly," he said grinning broadly. "Look, the point is that I used to smoke pot but I quit and you shouldn't do it, okay?"

She nodded uncertainly, "Okay."

Yeah, I got this, he thought. He relaxed slightly as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Listen, adults lie to kids all the time," he said airily. "Me, though? I'm never going to do that with you. Me and you; we're always going to be honest with each other, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

"Yeah," he snorted dismissively, "it's like when they tell you that sex is this big deal and that if you do it you'll get a disease or get some girl pregnant the first time—"

"You've had sex, too?" She asked, her eyes bugging out of her head once more.

Tommy froze, "Um…"

"How old were you when you did it?" She asked in amazement.

"Uh, fifteen..almost?" He answered reluctantly. "And by almost I mean pretty much fifteen since my birthday was the very next day, so…"

Felicity blinked, "Wow."

"It's not that big of a deal," he said quickly.

"Yeah it is," she told him. "That means…" she looked up at him again, "That means I could be having sex in-!"

Whoa! "No!" he said loudly, "You're not having sex when you're fifteen! In fact, you aren't having sex ever!"

"But you said that-?"

"Forget what I said!" He told her, "Forget everything I said! Drugs and sex are bad and you should never do them!"

"But-?"

"Never! Because they cause brain damage and diseases and you'll get pregnant-!" He told her as he got out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at her in her little pink nightie with the teddy bears embroidered around the neckline, "Just—just go brush your teeth and get dressed so we can have breakfast!"

She looked at him in confusion, "But you said that…"

"No more!" He said scowling, "Just repeat after me: Drugs and sex are bad and I will never do them!"

She tilted her head as her eyebrows drew together in confusion, "Really?"

"Yes, really!" He huffed.

"Drugs and sex are bad and I will never do them," she repeated obediently.

"That's right; just say no! Now…go brush your teeth," he said gruffly as he pointed towards her en suite.

As he watched her get out of bed and walk slowly into her bathroom a thought occurred to him that maybe this parenting thing wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it'd be after all.

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Mrs. McGregor gave Tommy a stern look as she set his juice in front of his plate at the kitchen table, "Dinnae dreep ony o' that syrup oan yer sark, dae ye hear me Tommy Merlyn?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said absentmindedly as he dipped his bacon in syrup then watched Felicity spread cream cheese and fruit preserves all over her French toast. He was trying to come up with a way to ask Mrs. Mack about redoing his room when Felicity suddenly spoke up.

"Mrs. McGregor?" She said sweetly as she batted her eyelashes up at the older woman.

"Aye, sweetheart?" The older woman said over her shoulder as she began wiping down the counters.

"Tommy was wondering if he could redecorate his room because it's kind of depressing and his bed is uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't say it's 'depressing' exactly," he muttered. "A little dark but—"

The older woman paused in her work then nodded before going back to her cleaning, "Aye, it's a bawherr depressing, isnae it. Ah dinnae think his faither wid hae a kinch wi' it. Ah will steid a ca' wi' th' decorators th'day."

"What did she say?" Felicity whispered.

"I'm not sure but I think that was a yes," Tommy said slowly.

"Mrs. Mack?" She said again.

"Whit's it, darlin'?"

"Tommy said that maybe I could help him pick the furniture and paint and stuff so we were going to go out and take pictures of the stuff we liked to show the decorators," the girl said in a sweet voice as she batted her eyelashes endearingly.

The older woman turned to Tommy with a beaming smile, her hand reaching out to give his cheek a fond pat, "Och, noo isnae that crakin' o' ye tae dae, Tommy Merlyn? Keek at ye bein' sae lovingly kind tae wee Felicity! Ye'v become sic a gentleman." She put her hand on her hips and looked between the two of them, "'N' juist whin did th' twa o' ye plan oan huvin this wee excursion? A'm needin' tae ken sae ah kin record mah stories while a'm oot chasing efter th' twa o' ye."

Both Tommy and Felicity looked up at her blankly.

She frowned at them, "Weel, whin did yi'll waant tae gang or dinnae ye ken?"

"Uhhh…?" Tommy said in confusion.

"Oh!" Felicity said, her features lighting up in comprehension, "Actually, since we're just going to be taking pictures and stuff we figured we could just go by ourselves that way you wouldn't have to go to any trouble."

"Tis na trauchle, loue," she assured her. "Forby, if th' mattress is in a brassic a shape as ye say we cuid at least git that handled th'day 'n' lea th' rest fur th' fancy wummin yer faither hires tae see tae th' furniture 'n' pentin. Forby, thir's na telling whit this wild laddie wid pick fur his-sel f thare wasn't someone wi' sense thare tae halt him. He'd likelie bring hame yin o' they freish fangled cooncil juice kips or something that runs aff o' th' mechanicals."

"I am so lost…"Tommy said under his breath. "Something about a mattress and something to do with juice…"

"Actually, Tommy was going to invite a friend of his named McKenna to come with us," she told her causing Tommy to turn and look at her in horror as she pretended to ignore him.

"McKenna, hmm?" Mrs. Mack said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at them both suspiciously. "'N' juist wha is this 'McKenna' then? She isnae yin o` yer hussies noo is she, Tommy Merlyn? Ah dinnae think yer daddy wid appreciate haein a body lik' that aroond oor wee Felicity, dae ye?"

"Uhhhh no?" He said, taking a shot in the dark.

"No, ma'am," Felicity answered quickly. "She's not his girlfriend, just a friend. Also, she's a very nice girl; a good *Catholic* girl," she said with emphasis. "In fact, I think Tommy said something about her uncle being a priest, right Tommy?" Felicity asked before elbowing him under the table.

"Uh, yeah!" He said quickly. "I'm…pretty sure she said…something like that anyway."

"A guid left footer lassie? 'N' her uncle's a priest ye say?" She appeared to contemplate that for a moment, "Gey weel then. Bit afore ye twa gang aff wi' this body a'm waantin' tae hae a keek at her masell. Yer faither tellt me tae keep an yak oan th' twa o' ye while he wis gaen 'n' ah dinnae waant ye gaun aff wi' some body o' questionable morals. Juist fur her uncle's a priest it doesn't mean she's an angel. Mony a guid fowk haes spawned themselves a black an aberdonian`s burd."

This time they both looked confused.

"Weel, urr ye aff tae ca' her oan th' phane or whit?" Shae asked sternly.

"Huh?" Tommy asked.

"I think she wants you to call McKenna and have her come over," Felicity whispered.

"Oh," he said before pulling out his cell phone and staring at it. "You know, maybe we shouldn't invite her along. Mrs. Mack is already here and—"

"Whit's th' kinch noo?" Mrs. Mack asked as she put her hands back on her wide hips once more and scowled down at them.

"Tommy's scared to ask her to come with us," Felicity told her.

"I am not!" He sputtered, shooting the younger girl a dirty look. "I'm just…it's just early and she might not be awake yet or she might have other plans…"

The older woman's mouth curved upward in a knowing grin, "Och, ah see. Sae ye'r sweet oan this lassie. 'N' ah suppose tis wee Felicity wha is acting as matchmaker atween th' twa o' ye then?" She gave the little girl a wink, "That bein' sae, ah definitely wantae catch up wi` th' lassie that haes Tommy Merlyn a' turned aroond 'n' chasing efter his ain tail. Gie th' lassie a ca' 'n' hae her come ower."

"I—" He grimaced and looked between the two of them, "Fine," he got up from the table to leave when Mrs. McGregor stopped him.

"Ye dinnae need tae lea th' buird tae mak' yer ca'. Gang oan!" She commanded.

"Since when is it polite to use your cell phone at the table?" He asked defensively.

"Since we both know that if you leave the room you're just going to chicken out then come back here to say that she had other plans when, the truth is, you never even bothered to ask her to begin with," Felicity said easily.

The older woman nodded, "Aye, whit she said."

"Fine," he said huffily. He began to dial.

"'N' pat it oan that speaker phane settin' sae we kin a' hear," Mrs. Mack told him as she sat down beside them.

Tommy threw her a murderous look but did as she asked anyway.

/Why Tommy Merlyn, as I live and breathe,/ McKenna said as her voice was piped over the tinny speakers.

"Hi, um…" he stumbled, suddenly losing his nerve until Mrs. Mack's foot shot out to give him a sharp kick in the shin. "Ow, crap!" He exclaimed, rubbing his lower leg with a wince.

/What?/ McKenna chuckled.

"Nothing, I , uh, bumped something," he took a second to glower at the beaming woman sitting across from him. "Anyway, I was wondering if you weren't busy if you'd like to hang out a little. Today. You know, like now?" He asked her, "I mean, I totally get it if you're busy so…yeah."

/Why?/ She asked suspiciously.

"Smart lass," Mrs. Mack whispered to Felicity who snickered.

"Well, um…" Tommy stuttered.

"Hi," Felicity said, making a last minute save. "I'm Felicity."

/Well, hello Felicity,/ McKenna said in mild confusion.

"Tommy and I wanted to go out to look at furniture and stuff but Mrs. McGregor—"

"Hello, dearie," Mrs. Mack waved at the phone that was lying between them.

"—said that we couldn't go unless Tommy brought someone with good sense so he wouldn't pick out anything—"

"Inappropriate," Mrs. McGregor said firmly.

"Yeah, you should know you're on speaker phone," Tommy said glumly.

McKenna laughed, /Okay, so you thought to call me?/

"Well, Tommy said your one of the smartest people he knows," Felicity told her. "And that's saying something because I'm a certified genius."

"She is ower clever, ah will gie ye that," Mrs. McGregor said broadly. "Plus, ah tellt Tommy he coudnae hae a'body aroond young Felicity wha wasn't trustworthy 'n' he said yer uncle wis a priest."

/My uncle's not a priest,/ McKenna said in confusion as Tommy froze.

"No?" Mrs. McGregor said as she turned a jaundiced eye on him.

/No, but I do have two aunts that are nuns though,/ she said.

"Yeah, I must have gotten the two confused," Tommy laughed nervously. "Priests, nuns, aunts, uncles; whatever."

/I'm surprised you even remembered that,/ McKenna said stunned.

"Ye hae twa aunts in th' convent? Whilk order?" Mrs. Mack asked in surprise.

/Sacred Heart,/ she answered. /They actually teach at the high school. I was going to go there but I got a scholarship to Starling Prep instead./

"A scholarship?" Mrs. Mack said approvingly. "Weel she is a clever yin then. 'N' did ye gang tae Catholic schuil afore that?"

/Yes ma'am, all the way up to junior high./

"Weel that settles it then," the older woman said with a firm nod. "Wid ye be willing tae tak' oot pairt o` yer day tae supervise thae twa while thay gang 'n' pick oot a freish kip 'n' some furniture then?"

/Uh, huh?/ She said in confusion.

"She's asking if you wouldn't mind babysitting me and Tommy while we go pick out some stuff for his room?" Felicity asked her.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Tommy said, his cheeks ruddy with embarrassment.

"Aye, ye dae," Mrs. Mack shot back.

/Sure, I…guess so,/ she said slowly.

"Whin kin ye be 'ere?" The older woman asked.

/Uh…fifteen minutes?/

"Braw!" She said clapping her hands together. "Hae ye hud yer breakfast yit?"

/No, ma'am./

"Weel, hurry ower 'n' ah will set ye a steid at th' buird. Howfur dae ye tak' yer eggs?" She asked.

/Huh?/

"Mrs. Mack said she'd make you some breakfast but she wants to know how you take your eggs?" Felicity translated.

/Oh, uh, over easy./

"Braw! Noo Tommy, son, tell th' guid lassie cheerio the nou sae she kin hurry oan ower afore her breakfast gets cauld," the plump older woman said, already moving towards the stove.

"Okay, um, I guess I'll see you in a few," Tommy said reluctantly.

/Okay, bye,/ she said before ending the call.

"That was completely humiliating," Tommy muttered.

"Weel, she seems lik' a crakin' young lassie," the older woman praised humming pleasantly under her breath as she put some more bacon in the skillet. She turned to face them, her eyebrows drawing together in concern, "Ainlie ah wonder how come it's that none o' th' young fowk nowadays cannae seem tae ken plain simple speakin'. Ah ken ah hae a bawherr bit o' an accent bit tis nae that solid tae follow whit a'm saying, is it? Ah mean, ye twa seem tae be able tae ken me braw, richt?"

The two of them looked first to her then to each other before nodding and saying in one voice, "Yes, ma'am."

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As they sat in the back of the limo headed towards the upscale furniture store Mrs. McGregor told them to go to, McKenna looked first to Tommy then to Felicity curiously. At the housekeeper's insistence they took the town car along with his father's driver. Her exact words were, "Ye dinnae need tae be driving lik' a bat oot o' hell wi' baith Felicity 'n' this ither lassie in th' motor wi' ye. 'N' dinnae think a dinnae ken aboot they parking tickets, Tommy Merlyn. Juist be glad ah sent in a check whin ah did th' monthy household expenses 'n' didnae tell yer daddy!"

After which Felicity whispered that next time he got a ticket to let her know so she could erase it from the system before they mailed out the notification.

She was definitely a handy little thing to have around, he'd give her that. Between her hacking, her newfound ability to understand at least some of what Mrs. Mack was saying, and her own sunny disposition that seemed to lighten everyone's mood, life around the Merlyn mansion had sure gotten a lot easier.

"I had no idea that you had a little sister, Tommy," McKenna said in mild surprise.

"I'm not his sister."

"She's not my sister," they said simultaneously.

"But you guys live together?" She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"It's…complicated," Tommy said weakly.

"We're platonic life bros," Felicity told her.

"Platonic life bros," McKenna repeated in amusement.

"Yeah, I got grandfathered in," she shrugged.

McKenna's eyebrows shot up, "Huh?"

Tommy shot her a quelling look before turning to the other woman, "Yeah, it's a…inside joke."

"Oh," she nodded. "So…not that I'm not up for a ride in a limo, but why did you guys invite me along? I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that neither of you really needs a babysitter, right?"

Tommy flushed.

"Mrs. Mack was afraid that we'd pick out something weirdly inappropriate so she told us we had to find someone with actual taste," Felicity broke in for the save.

Sort of a save, Tommy added sarcastically.

She laughed slightly, "And I was the first person you thought of?"

"Who else was he going to ask; Ollie?" Felicity snorted, "Have you seen his hair? He wears it like that on purpose."

Tommy buried his face in his hands and groaned as McKenna snickered.

"Yeah, it's not good," she agreed. "It looks like a really bad wig, doesn't it?"

"Tommy and I agreed it looks like a dead Shih Zhu," Felicity informed her.

McKenna began to laugh at that while Tommy glared down at the younger girl, "Hey!"

"Well, we did!" Felicity said defensively.

"Yeah, but you're not supposed to tell anybody!" He groused.

"What? Like it's a secret that his hair looks like that? It's not like he wears a hat!" Felicity shot back.

And at that, McKenna began to laugh so hard that tears began streaming down her cheeks.

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A while later they were in the store looking on as Felicity consulted with several of the in-house decorators. As the girl chatted excitedly about all the different options available to them, McKenna turned to Tommy with a curious look.

"I think it's really nice that you're letting her pick all the stuff for your room. I mean, I have three older brothers and a sister, and there's no way they would ever let me even step inside their rooms at her age much less decorate them."

"She's not my sister," he reminded her. "Besides, it's pretty much her room, too." He shrugged.

"What do you mean?" She asked in confusion as they trailed behind the group. "I've seen your house, remember? I'm pretty sure you guys don't have to share a room."

"Felicity…" he sighed, "Sometimes she has bad dreams so it's just easier for her to sleep with me rather than having her get upset then making her get up in the middle of the night to come look for me."

"Oh," she said, looking at him with a slight smile.

"Yeah, well," he said, ducking his head with a flush. "It's no big deal. Besides, she doesn't have them if there's someone there with her and it's just the two of us most of the time since my dad's always out of town on business. I mean, there's nothing weird about it or anything," he said quickly as he looked up at her.

"Of course not!" She assured him. "I used to sleep in my parent's bed all the time when I was a kid. I would even crawl into bed with my sister when she'd let me."

He shrugged, furrowing his brow, "Yeah, well, we don't exactly have that option." He flushed suddenly and gave her a self-conscious look, "What I meant to say was-!"

"I get it," she said cutting him off, her own eyes haunted. "My dad got shot on the job so I know what you mean."

"I didn't know that," he frowned in sympathy. "What did he do? Not 'what did he do to get shot,'" he corrected, "I meant, what was his job?"

"Yeah, I figured that was what you meant," she said dryly. "He was a cop," she told him. "He died when I was three."

"I always thought your dad was a lawyer," he said with a curious look.

"He is," she told him. "I mean, technically he's my step-dad but he adopted me when I was six so he's my dad."

"Oh. Hey, can I ask you something, and have you not get offended by it?" At her nod he asked, "If your dad is a lawyer then why are you at Starling Prep on a scholarship?"

"You seriously have no idea how much tuition is at that school, do you?" She snorted.

"Not really, no," he answered reluctantly.

She smirked, "My dad's an ADA which means he doesn't exactly pull in the big bucks but he's thinking about running for DA eventually or trying for a bench seat."

"That's good," he said, if for no other reason than to fill space.

"Glad you approve," she said in amusement. He began to stutter out an apology but she cut him off, "Besides, Laurel and Sara both go to Starling Prep and their parents aren't super rich."

"True," he shrugged. "I just figured it had something to do with their mom or her side of the family though."

"Nope, they're both on partial scholarship, too," she told him. "Actually, that's why we became friends in the first place; all of us come from cop families. I mean, my sister, Mel, is a cop in Gotham and I have three 'step'-brothers who are all in law enforcement; one's a detective in Central City, one's in forensics here, and the third one followed in my dad's footsteps and became a lawyer." She grimaced slightly, "Although he's the odd one out since he became a public defender." She looked at him curiously, "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure," he said off-handedly as he kept his eye trained on Felicity.

"Did you just ask me to join you guys today so you could get the scoop on Laurel and Oliver?"

He took a centering breath and glanced at her, "You want the truth?"

"Yeah," she said watching him carefully.

"I could honestly give a shit," he said bluntly.

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief, "Seriously."

"Seriously," he confirmed.

She looked at him askance, "Bullshit. You had it bad for Laurel and everybody knew it."

"Apparently she didn't," he said with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, well, she did," McKenna said dryly.

He let that sink in for a second before shrugging it off, "You know, if she did, then I'm even more glad that she picked Oliver instead."

"Really?" She asked again in disbelief.

Tommy sighed and waited until Felicity had stopped near a sleigh bed before turning towards her, "You want to know the truth about why I invited you along?"

"Yeah," she said, her dark eyes searching his expression carefully.

"Her," he said hitching his thumb towards Felicity.

"Felicity?" She asked in confusion.

"She wanted to meet my friends, only I don't trust any of my so-called friends to be anywhere near her," he told her without an ounce of humor. "The last time I left Ollie in a room alone with her he nearly got her killed."

"What?" She said incredulously, her eyes going straight to the younger girl, "What happened?"

"She has a nut allergy and he gave her a brownie with nuts," he said wearily as he ran his hand over his hair. "It wasn't really his fault; I knew he was making brownies but I didn't know he was using nuts and I forgot to tell him that she was allergic."

"Damn," she cringed. "I have a cousin with a nut allergy and she once had to have a trach put in because her throat closed up. She still has a bad scar right here." She touched the hollow of her throat and Tommy's face darkened as he swallowed. "She nearly died. That must have been scary as fuck."

"Yeah, well, luckily I got to her in time," he said taking a shaky breath. His eyes sought her out again before he spoke, "Can I tell you a secret? Just between me and you and you have to promise not to tell anyone?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, moving slightly closer to him.

"I convinced my dad to take her out of her boarding school and put her in Starling Prep next year so I could take care of her here," he said quietly. "He's always gone so it's going to be just us but, really, we're all we've got anyway so we might as well be together. The thing is though, he'll only let me keep her if I can keep my shit together and prove I can be responsible." He looked at her uncertainly, "I mean, you kind of know me from hanging around Ollie and stuff. Do you think she'll be okay? With me, I mean?"

"Honestly?" She asked.

He nodded and braced himself for the words he was sure were coming next.

"Before today I would have said 'hell no', but after seeing you with her?" She glanced between them. "Yeah," she said with a crooked grin.

"Really?" He asked hopefully. "You're not just saying that?"

"Yeah, trust me I wouldn't lie about something like that," she told him. "The truth is you haven't taken your eyes off her once and not just because we're in a store full of strangers. The whole time we were at your house and in the car it was the same way. I mean, my older sister and brothers could barely stand me. Every time I'd open my mouth they'd tell me to shut up but you seem to hang on her every word and she's the same way with you. I mean, it's pretty obvious that you two genuinely like each other as friends and not just as siblings—not that you're siblings," she said wryly, holding her hands up in a submissive gesture. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of jealous. I would have loved to hang out with Mel when I was her age but she was always too busy for me."

"First off, thank you for acknowledging that she's not my sister," he said drolly, his eyes still locked on Felicity. "I know it sounds weird but we just don't think of each other that way; we're friends. Kind of like best friends, I guess." He grimaced, "Actually, 'best friends' isn't right either. I don't know what you would call us, 'platonic life bros' is actually pretty close; all I know is that she needs me and, I guess, I need her. It's like, when we're together, we forget about everyone we've lost because we have each other to fill in those cracks, you know?"

McKenna took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, "Goddamn you, Tommy Merlyn."

"What? What did I do?" He asked in confusion. As he turned to face her he noticed the tears forming in her eyes and blinked, "Are you okay?"

"No," she said damply as she wiped at her eyes with her fingertips.

He reached into his pocket and took out a folded handkerchief then handed it to her, "Here; Felicity has allergies so I started keeping something in my pocket just in case."

"Are you serious?" She sobbed, looking down at the cloth in disbelief.

"I have Kleenex, too," he said in alarm as he reached into his other pocket.

She gave him a hard look between her tears, "I swear to fucking God, Tommy Merlyn; if you are messing with me and that kid turns out to be an actor or something as part of some elaborate hoax to get into my pants…"

"What? No! Whoa," he said, throwing up his hands defensively. "Not a hoax and I'm not trying to get into your pants, I swear!" He froze, "Uh, not that I don't find you attractive because I do; I do find you attractive. In fact, I was kind of crushing on you for a long time—"

"Really?" She said, her hand pressing to her chest as she grinned at him.

"Yeah, but you always seemed to have a thing for Ollie and he always acted like he reciprocated—I mean, he did! He totally had the hots for you, so I never went there which is why I started focusing on Laurel instead," he said quickly.

"I kind of wish you had said something," she sniffled, her cheeks growing pink and she lowered her gaze. "I mean, yeah, sure, I thought Ollie was cute. I mean, he's gorgeous…except for the hair," she admitted with a toothy smile. "It does kind of look like a dead Shih Zhu."

He snickered and shoved his hands in his pockets, fidgeting nervously, "I kept telling him to do something with it but he said it was part of his unique 'style'. I mean, what are you gonna do short of forcing him into a Super Cuts at gunpoint?" He shrugged.

"The point is, I would have gone out with you if you asked," she said shyly.

Tommy tilted his head to the side and shrugged again, "Like I said, Ollie had a thing for you and I didn't want to step on that."

"He didn't seem to have that problem when it came to you and Laurel," she pointed out.

Tommy grimaced, "Look, I don't know why Ollie did what he did but, if what you told me was true; Laurel wasn't really interested in me anyway so it's just as well. Besides, like Felicity pointed out to me the other day, if Ollie liked Laurel so much that he was willing to tank our entire friendship to be with her, then he must really love her. If that's true then I'm happy for him."

"Really?" She asked incredulously.

"Okay, well, I'll admit I was royally pissed off for a minute or two," he confessed. "Really, really fucking pissed, but then I talked to Felicity and that went away. I realized that I never even really liked Laurel, just the idea of Laurel. Apparently I didn't even know her at all so it's no big loss. I'd never so much as asked her out so if she chose to be with Ollie than that's her right. She's not property, I had no 'claim' on her, and even if we had dated she's still her own person and so is Ollie; I have no right to stand in their way or even be angry. As far as I'm concerned, it's cool."

She looked at him steadily, "Did Felicity come up with that whole speech?"

"Every last word," he admitted.

"Felicity's a pretty smart kid," she said with a smile as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through a dark fall of lashes.

"Yeah, she is," he said softly, his eyes seeking her out once more as she looked at a chest of drawers and some nightstands.

McKenna stepped closer, "So…?"

"So?" He asked glancing over at her.

"So are you going to ask me out on a date, or what?" She said rolling her eyes.

He shifted uneasily, "Um, I would; I mean, it's pretty obvious that Ollie has moved on with Laurel, but the truth is I can't. Not right now."

"Why not?" She asked, not offended, merely curious.

"Felicity," he said simply. "If I want to keep her with me then I have to give up the partying, the drinking; everything, and I can't be around it either."

Her eyebrows drew together in consternation, "You know Tommy, yeah, I drink and have done a little partying but I was never a fiend about it if that's what you're worried about. Even then, I'd never do that stuff in front of a kid, I swear."

"Yeah, I know," he hastened to explain. "I'm not trying to insult you; what I meant to say was that most of my days and nights from now until graduation are going to be spent at home with her," he said carefully. "I'm not going to be available for dates or parties, and I know you're not going to want to hang out at my place watching old musicals and drinking hot cocoa with us when you could be out having fun. I'm just—I'm just trying to be honest here. I'm really sorry if I led you on or offended you."

"No, I get it," she nodded, her expression relaxing. "To be honest though, the partying has been getting kind of old so…"

He looked at her in surprise, "Really?"

"Yeah, and I happen to like old musicals and cocoa, plus Felicity's a great kid…"

"Yeah?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah," she smiled.

He looked between her and Felicity and his face fell slightly, "The thing is, I would love to be friends with you McKenna, but right now, with everything on my plate between her and getting into college, I can't really afford more than that." He took a deep breath and gave her a wary look, "But if you'd like to hang out with us, be our friend; my friend, I'd like that but I'll understand if you want to tell me to go to hell. I'll even pay your cab fare if you want to go home," he said, already reaching for his wallet.

"Put it away, Merlyn," she said giving him a playful slap on the arm. "I don't need cab fare and I would love to be 'just friends'."

"You sure?" He asked uncertainly.

"Yes, but only if I still get to hang out on the couch with you guys watching old movies and drinking cocoa." She leveled a stern finger at him, "And there better be marshmallows or I will be way pissed. And not the little hard ones that come in the instant powder mix; the great big ones or the fluff in the jar, either one of those will do and the cocoa better be everything you promised and more."

"I think we can arrange that," he said in relief. Taking a chance he asked, "So what are you doing later tonight?"

"Why; what do you have in mind?" She asked playfully.

"Well, after this we're going to the party store so Felicity can plan a big cookout for my birthday this weekend…"

"I do love a party," she grinned.

"And then lunch," he told her. "I have to warn you there will probably be vegetables involved and Felicity hates pizza so expect healthy crap."

"I can deal with that," she nodded gravely.

"Then later, dinner in the kitchen with Mrs. McGregor while she and Felicity gossip about their favorite soap operas…"

"Oh please tell me it's Passions," she said with feigned awe. "That show is my jam."

"Then later we get to sit around the TV room drinking the aforementioned cocoa with the big marshmallows while watching Gigi," he finished.

"Damn, Tommy," she breathed, her lips quirking up playfully. "Gigi? Talk about a panty dropper."

"So are you in?" He asked, spreading his palms as he held his arms out to the side.

"I am *so* in," she assured him.

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For the rest of the day they were like the Three Musketeers. The three of them spent the morning in the furniture store, giggling and laughing as they tried out all the different mattresses, both Felicity and McKenna quickly nixing his suggestion of a waterbed…

"But it's waveless, see? Says so on the tag," he protested. "And I always wanted a waterbed."

"No," they both said as one.

…before he finally settled on a very soft and thickly pillow-topped queen-sized mattress similar to Felicity's. Afterwards, they went for Chinese food (where he was forced to eat broccoli against his will), then to the party store where the two girls huddled together in order to conspire about something he suspected would not end well, at least not for him.

By the end of the night, Felicity laid sprawled between them, her feet in McKenna's lap and her head in his as he played absently with her curls while they watched the credits roll on the screen.

"I love that movie," McKenna said sniffling happily.

"Can I ask you something?" He said quietly. "Gigi?"

"Yeah?"

"So she was a hooker, right?" McKenna slapped him playfully on the arm and he winced, "What? She was, right?"

"No!" She said gruffly, careful not to wake the sleeping girl between them.

"So what was she then?" He asked, honestly confused.

"She was a courtesan."

"How is that not a hooker because I'm starting to wonder if I should've let Felicity even watch this movie in the first place."

"A courtesan isn't a hooker," she snorted. "She's a…I don't know, a professional mistress."

"How is that not a hooker?" He repeated.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she scowled at him, "The point is that it was a good movie," she told him. "Especially the last part when Gaston finally realizes that Gigi isn't the girl he thought of as a little sister but that he's fallen in love with her…"

"Yeah, that was weird," he muttered under his breath.

"…and then he asks her to be his mistress but she turns him down only to take him back!" She sighed, "Oh! And then at the dinner at Maxim's when Gaston gets mad because he realizes he doesn't just want her to be his mistress, but that he really has feelings for her so he takes her home and wanders the streets all torn up about it before racing back to Mamita's so he can ask for Gigi's hand in marriage!" She squealed in delight.

"This is really sad, you know that right?" He asked her. "You said you wanted to be a cop."

"I do, you jerk!" She said, punching him in the arm again.

"What kind of cop swoons over a pervy guy hooking up with a girl he's known since she was twelve?" He snorted as he rubbed his arm with a wince.

"It's a good movie," she insisted. "Even you were smiling in the last scene when they were married and riding in the carriage through the park."

"What can I say? She looked hot," he joked.

"Ah, you suck," she told him.

"Is the movie over?" Felicity asked sleepily.

"Yup," he told her as he helped her sit up. "You ready to go to bed, Sunshine?"

She yawned and nodded.

"Go on upstairs and I'll be up after I walk McKenna to her car," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her hair.

She nodded then turned to the other woman, flinging her arms around her neck in a hug, "Thanks McKenna; are you coming back tomorrow to help finish planning the party?"

"I can," she said, looking between them, "I mean, if you guys don't mind me hanging out with you again?"

"No, that's cool," Tommy shrugged.

"Yeah," Felicity grinned sleepily and hugged her again. "Night."

"Night night," McKenna said, hugging her back.

"Hey, don't forget to brush your teeth," Tommy told her as she headed for the stairs.

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm not the one who has to be reminded about basic hygiene around here, remember? 'Oh, that sound was just the house settling,' my butt!"

McKenna snickered as Tommy flushed scarlet, "Yeah, well, it's an old house," he muttered. "Anyway, just—I'll be up in a minute."

"Right…" Felicity said broadly as she ascended the staircase.

"C'mon hero; walk me to my car so the boogie man doesn't get me," McKenna said smacking his arm again as she got up and moved past him.

"Ow," he complained, rubbing his arm as he trailed after her, "I think you left a bruise that time."

"Don't be a wuss!" She laughed.

"I'm not a wuss," he grumbled. "You're just freakishly strong."

When they got to her car outside she smiled at him, "I had a really great time tonight, Tommy."

"I'm glad," he said stuffing his hands in his khakis and shifting his weight nervously.

"Hey, stop acting so bashful," she teased. "It's not like I expect you to kiss me or anything, remember? I told you, I'm good with just being friends."

He offered her a grateful smile, relaxing slightly before his eyebrows drew together in a pensive expression, "Hey, there's something I should tell you real quick."

"What?" She asked, her smile fading slightly as she looked at him in concern.

"Well, if we're going to be friends, and I do really want to be friends, then I need to be honest about something." He took a deep centering breath, "All of this was Felicity's idea; you know, inviting you over tonight and stuff."

She shrugged, unconcerned, "Yeah, I know; you told me, remember?"

"No, see…" He paused, "Okay, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but—"

"You invited me over to make Laurel jealous," she finished for him.

"Kind of, yeah…" he said, looking at her cautiously.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, "I know. Felicity told me the whole plan when we went to the bathroom together at the restaurant."

"She did?"

McKenna nodded.

"So you already knew?"

"Yeah, I mean it wasn't hard to figure out," she said with a dismissive gesture.

"We weren't trying to use you or anything—" He said quickly.

"I know," she said dryly. "I already went through all of that with Felicity."

"And we're still cool?" He asked in surprise.

"More than cool," she assured him. "In fact, I have a confession of my own to make."

"What is it?" He asked.

"Well, actually, Felicity sort of called me on the carpet for this already…" she took a deep breath and bit her lip nervously. "She's actually kind of an intimidating little thing when she gets loud, you know?"

Tommy's brow furrowed once again in confusion, "Felicity got loud with you? What did she say?"

She grimaced, "Well, when we got to the ladies room she locked the door and said we needed to talk then basically let me know everything that happened that night. Of course, I imagine you gave her the G rated version but I'd already heard the triple 'X' one from Laurel—"

"Yeah, that's something a guy wants to hear," he muttered.

"Anyway, she called me out on the little power play Laurel put me and Sara up to last week at school."

"She was right about that?" He asked in surprise.

"That Laurel asked us to bring up the fact that she and Ollie had a thing in front of you guys? Yeah," she confirmed. "Even though it kind of backfired on her. She wanted to make Ollie jealous and hoped you guys would start arguing over her but you didn't fall for the bait."

"She wanted us to fight over her?" He repeated slowly.

She flushed again, "Pretty stupid, huh? I didn't want to do it but she was pretty desperate to get Ollie's attention at that point. She also called me out on the fact that Laurel was going to pump me for information later."

"What?" He frowned, "Why would Laurel do that? She already has Ollie and I haven't spoken to him since the night it happened; he's been avoiding me and, frankly, I haven't exactly been calling him either."

"God, how is it I didn't grab onto you when I had the chance?" She muttered in exasperation. "Tommy, she's not looking for information on Ollie; she wants to know about you and how you feel about her."

"Why?" He asked, taken aback.

"Look, Laurel is my friend, okay? I love her but, even though she looks really together most of the time, the truth is her ego is really fragile," she told him. "I mean, she looks so strong and confident but, half the time, she's two seconds from an all-out panic attack or a crying jag and she takes whatever kind of emotional reassurance she can even if it sometimes comes at someone else's expense." She leaned against her little Miata and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at him apologetically, "I'm not saying it's right, but she's usually not like this. Not this bad, I mean; she can be, but it's never gone this far before…"

He shook his head, "What are you talking about?"

She cleared her throat, "Listen, I know I said this already but she's my friend and that's the only reason I even agreed to this in the first place but I honestly-!"

He cut her off, "Just tell me."

She nodded and took another centering breath, "Okay, so things didn't go so well with Oliver after you left."

He blinked, "They didn't?"

"No," she said ruefully. "After you walked in on them Ollie got dressed and took off without so much as saying a word to her and he hasn't even called her back."

He leaned back onto the car, stunned, "What?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "So Laurel has been a total wreck. I mean, this is the second time they've had sex where he didn't even bother to call her afterwards—"

He turned to her in confusion, "Wait, that wasn't the first time they hooked up?"

Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline, "No; Ollie didn't tell you?"

"No," he said quietly as he let that sink in.

"To be fair they were both pretty wasted that night," she shrugged.

"But Laurel doesn't drink," he told her.

"Oh yes she does," she said wide-eyed. "She might not do it where people can see her doing it but, like I said, Laurel has issues, okay? I mean, she's not an alcoholic, but she doesn't like people seeing her out of control. Anyway, they hooked up and then she tried to get him to talk to her, kept showing up at different parties and hanging out with him, but he acted like nothing ever happened. I don't know if he genuinely forgot, or if he was playing her, but after he left she was devastated."

"I…" he looked at her helplessly, "I mean, I'm sorry Ollie was an asshole but why are you telling me this? What does any of that have to do with me?"

She turned to rest her elbows on the car roof and folded her arms in front of her, "The thing is, when Laurel's pride gets hurt she starts looking for affirmation where ever she can find it. Something goes wrong and the next thing you know she's trying out for head cheerleader or going for the highest SAT scores; anything to assure herself she's still got it. So tonight…" she swallowed.

"What?" He prompted her again.

"She wanted me to come over to see how devastated you were by her hooking up with Ollie," she said shamefacedly.

"Oh." He said quietly.

"She's not a bad person," McKenna hastened to add. "I'd like to think that I'm not either, but I'd understand if you wanted me to stay away from here on out."

"So what are you planning on telling her?" He asked instead of answering her right away.

"What should I tell her?" She asked carefully. "I mean, to be honest, she's so mad at Ollie right now that if you really wanted to get with her she'd probably say yes, especially if she thought you still had those kinds of feelings for her."

He thought about that, he really did. He forced himself not to react, to instead roll that around in his head until he was ready to answer her.

"You want to know the truth?" He asked her at last.

"Yeah," she said guardedly.

"I really don't care," he said smiling slightly, a feeling of relief rising from his chest. "And I'm not saying that because I'm mad, even though I probably should be, but I wasn't lying earlier when I said that, aside from Felicity, nothing else really matters to me. I don't have time to play games right now and, even if I did, as big of a fuck up as Ollie can be, he's still my brother. I don't know why he did what he did, but I'm just not willing to go there. Not anymore."

"So you've moved on?" She asked, her dark eyes assessing him carefully.

"Truthfully?" He shrugged, "I moved on about twenty minutes after it happened."

"Yeah, you told me; Felicity," she said with a grin.

"Felicity," he nodded. "I guess it wasn't true love after all." He sighed, "Hey, you know what? Tell Laurel whatever you think she needs to hear, okay? I'm not mad at her but, at the same time, I only have room in my life for one person and that's Felicity. I get that she's feeling vulnerable and things are hard for her, but I just can't deal with that. I honestly hope she and Ollie get it together and that we can someday all be friends again but, like I told you, my partying days of wild sex and teenage angst are over."

"Okay, then that's what I'll tell her," she nodded. "What about us? Are we still good?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I mean, I can't exactly be mad at you for that. You were honest at least."

"Ditto," she told him.

He nodded in acceptance, "Anyway, Felicity likes you; I like you, and she feels comfortable around you so, if you want to come back and hang out, you're more than welcome to."

"I'd like that," she agreed quietly.

"One thing though," he said meeting her gaze steadily, "After you tell Laurel what you need to tell her, I don't want to hear anything else about her and Ollie's relationship and I don't want you telling her or anybody else about me and Felicity. I'd love to be friends but I don't want to expose Felicity to any more of this bullshit than I have to, okay?"

"Agreed," she told him. "In fact, I'm probably going to be putting a little space between me and Laurel as well."

"I wasn't trying to—"

"No," she stopped him. "This was my decision and it's been a long time coming. The truth is, seeing you today with Felicity…" she expelled a rough breath, "I mean, a month ago—hell, a couple of weeks ago you were the Wizard of Weed and I was doing a strip tease on Brandon's bar on a dare, and now you're like a real grown up." She gave him a rueful look, "No offense, but the day Tommy Merlyn gets his shit straight and starts acting like a responsible adult, that's the day I need to start reassessing a few things in my own life and I am so over this back and forth 'Do you like me? Check yes or no' middle school crap; seriously."

"Okay then," he said with an easygoing grin.

"Also, Felicity told me her plan for Ollie and Laurel and frankly, at this point, they deserve each other," she said flatly. He laughed at that and her lips curled upwards in a mischievous grin, "Still friends?" She asked, holding out her hand.

"Still friends," he agreed, shaking it warmly.

She leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on his lips before winking at him, "See you tomorrow, Tommy Merlyn," she said as she got into her car, chuckling at the stunned expression on his face.

"Uh, bye," he swallowed as he stepped back so she could pull away.

"And Tommy?" She called out, rolling down her window.

"Yeah?"

She smiled at him, "You're going to do great."

"Thanks," he said, feeling the warmth invade his chest as he watched her little white car disappear down the drive.

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After Tommy took a quick shower and put on a pair of flannel lounge pants he slipped into Felicity's room to go to sleep. His new mattress was supposed to be delivered along with the rest of the furniture they'd ordered after consulting with the in-house decorator. Rather than going with the lady who did Felicity's room, they decided to just go with him because it was just easier and Felicity liked the guy. Plus he really paid attention to what she had to say even though she was just a kid and that was enough for him. He went ahead and confirmed it all with Mrs. McGregor who didn't have a problem with it (in fact, she was actually a little relieved because she apparently thought the decorator Malcolm normally used was 'too snooty'), let the store know to charge everything to Malcolm since he already had a corporate account there, and they said they'd come by the next morning with paint chips for all of them to look over. Until then, they decided to keep using her room.

He slipped in bed beside her and she immediately stirred, her body pressing against his as she buried her nose in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Hey Sunshine?" He said quietly, his arm pulling her close.

"MMMF?" She grunted.

"There's something I need to tell you only I'm not sure if I should."

"What?" She mumbled.

"It's about your school in Gotham."

She opened one eye and looked at him blearily as she lifted her head from his chest, "What about it?"

He gathered his courage before speaking, "I asked Malcolm to take you out of your school and enroll you with me at Starling Prep instead."

"What?" She blinked in surprise.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought you could live here in Starling with me from now on."

She sat up suddenly, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"That's…" Her eyes went huge, "awesome!"

"Okay, but there's a catch," he warned her.

"What?" She asked eagerly.

"The deal I made with Malcolm is that in order for you to stay I can't screw up," he told her. "In fact, he specifically told me not to tell you so if I did screw up your feelings wouldn't get hurt."

"You won't screw up, I won't let you!" She said excitedly.

"I don't know about that," he said carding his fingers through his still damp hair nervously. "Usually if there's a way to mess something up I'm pretty good at finding it." He looked her in the eye and breathed out slowly, "Felicity, I don't want to hurt you, but if I screw up…"

"You aren't going to screw up," she said firmly. "And, if you do, we'll fix it."

"What if we can't?" He asked her, the fear gnawing at the lining of his stomach.

"Look, if I have to go back then that's okay, too," she said placing her small cool hand against his cheek. "I'm just happy you even asked because it means you really do like me."

"Of course I really like you," he frowned, moving her hand from his face so he could warm it in his.

"No, I mean you like me enough to want me to live with you, like for always," she said with a beaming grin. "You like me enough to give me a real home."

"This was always your real home," he said firmly.

She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight, "I love you, Tommy."

He smiled and hugged her back, his nose buried in her riotous curls, "I love you, too, Sunshine."

They sat there for several long seconds just holding each other before she pulled away slightly, "Did McKenna talk to you about what I told her at the restaurant during lunch?"

"Yeah."

"Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" He asked in confusion.

"Because I told her our whole plan before asking you first?"

"No," he said easily. He arched his eyebrow thoughtfully, "Actually I'm glad you told her because it made me reassess a few things about me, Laurel, and Ollie. I think I'm going to call him tomorrow and let him know I'm fine with him being with Laurel and that we're still bros."

She frowned, "But we're still totally going to mess with their heads and get revenge, right?"

"Of course, that's a given," he assured her.

She grinned then settled into his side once more.

"I love you, Tommy; goodnight."

"Night night, Sunshine. I love you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Sunshine After the Rain

Tommy scowled at the small television on the kitchen counter, "I don't like that Julian guy. There's something really off about him; like a 'creepy dude who hangs out in a van in front of a playground' kind of off."

"Shh!" The three women hissed at him.

"Seriously though, he's got this whole 'Norman Bates' vibe going on," he said, gesturing towards the screen. "Like, any minute now, he's going to start sucking his thumb while talking about what people taste like because he ate a baby for lunch or something."

"I'm with you, man," Brandon said shaking his head. "That dude has major creep factor." He tilted his head slightly, "Actually he kind of reminds me of my dad."

McKenna sighed in exasperation, "Of course he's creepy, he's the son of the frickin' devil!"

"Aye, the lassie is right; that Julian is th' spawn o' th' de'il his-sel! 'N' ah will tell ye another thing, that faither o' his is even worse!" Mrs. Mack said before crossing herself hastily, "Baith o' thaim wur sent fae th' gey bowels o' hell!"

"They're gay?" Brandon asked dumbly. "I thought he was hooking up with the black doctor chick?"

"They're not gay!" McKenna snorted.

"But Mrs. McGregor just said they were gay," he said with a frown.

"'Gey'!" The older woman said with a frown, "As in 'very'!" She shook her head and looked to Felicity, "Whit cannae th' young folk nowadays ken plain, simple speakin'?" She huffed, "You'd think ah wis talking in a foreign leid or something."

Felicity looked to Tommy who just shrugged. She took a breath, "I don't know?"

She scowled and nodded sharply at that, "A dinnae ken either bit tis enough tae drive a body barmy! Ye young fowk wi' yer texting 'n' fiddling aboot wi' yer phones. It gets sae frustration wi' they pure weird letter wurds ye fowk seem tae juist mak' up wi'oot rhyme or reason!" She harrumphed, folding her arms under her generous bosom, "Some days it mak's me wantae forgoat mah guid Christian ways, it does!"

"Me, too?" Felicity said after a moment's silent consultation with Tommy.

She made another triumphant huff, "Aye, ye'r a guid lassie, Felicity. Wise beyond yer years!" She turned a steely eye towards both Brandon and Tommy, "Ye mak' note o' this yin; Felicity kin ainlie be a bawherr o' a wee thing bit she's git a guid heid oan her shoulders!"

"Uh, yes, ma'am," Tommy said uncertainly.

She then looked at Brandon pointedly. The other boy swallowed, "Um, yeah? Uh, yes…ma'am?" He said, glancing at Tommy helplessly.

"Aye," she said smugly. "'N' that goes fur McKenna, tae!" She gave the girl beside her an approving look, "Ye'v git a sound heid oan yer shoulders 'n' thae wee jimmies wid dae weel tae pay attention 'n' follow th' braw example ye set fur thaim 'n' nae win` up lik' th' fowk oan th' tellybox wha gang gallavanting aboot 'n' getting intae a' kinds o' devilish mischief a' th' time." She grimaced and muttered, "If mah ain son, Jamie, weren't sae stuck oan that jezebel burd o' his, a'd speil matchmaker atween th' twa o' ye in a heartbeat. He needs a guid lassie lik' ye 'n' nae some trollop lik' that Siobhan wi' her put upon airs 'n' hussy ways."

"Thank you, ma'am?" McKenna said after a moment's hesitation.

Tommy's eyebrows drew together in frustration as he gestured towards the television again, "And how is it that TC guy can't see through that Liz chick? What is he; an idiot? I mean, how freaking obvious is it that she's using him?" He turned to see Felicity, McKenna, and Brandon all giving him pointed looks, "What?"

"Nothing, man; just watching this freaky soap opera, that's all," Brandon said, looking back at the TV and away from him.

"I didn't say a word," McKenna said with a snort.

"Seriously, what?" He asked.

"I'm not saying a word," McKenna said shaking her head.

"Me neither," Brandon agreed.

He looked to Felicity, "What am I missing here?"

"What you're missing here is that you're the idiot," she said flatly before turning back to watch the soap that had them all enthralled.

"I'm not an idiot," he said, taken aback.

She looked at him, "Liz…Laurel," she lifted her brow tellingly.

He paused, "Gotcha." He looked from the television to her again, "You also might've had a point about the daytime television thing, too."

"Told you so," she smirked. "Just wait until Dr. Phil comes on. Trust me; it's like Jerry Springer if Jerry had a degree in psychology and a Texas accent."

"I love Dr. Phil," McKenna sighed. "Those people make my relatives look normal." She wrinkled her nose slightly as another character came on screen, "Ugh, Ethan; that guy is such a douche."

"He looks like a douche," Tommy agreed.

"Actually, he reminds me of Ollie a little," Brandon said, fixing the screen with a critical eye.

"Which is why he's a douche," McKenna told him, ignoring the look Tommy was tossing her way.

"He's got way better hair though," Felicity added helpfully.

"Yeah, no dead shih zhus on him, huh?" McKenna snickered.

"Plus, he's a right fit wi' a crakin' round bahookie," Mrs. Mack said as she ran a glittering eye over the man's form.

"Ah, I hate that I understood that," Tommy mumbled, shutting his eyes in disgust. "That's not going to leave my brain anytime soon."

"I like his butt, too," Felicity agreed. "I like the way he wears his khakis all tight and stuff."

"What? Stop looking at his pants!" Tommy growled as he opened his eyes to glare at her, "You're too young to be noticing that….stuff!"

"No, I'm not," Felicity said, still smiling dreamily at the screen.

"Me, neither," Mrs. Mack agreed with a wicked grin.

"I bet you could bounce a quarter off of those abs…and the rest of his parts, too," McKenna said, giving him the once over as well.

"A'd gie up a bawherr o' coin fur that," Mrs. Mack said with a bawdy wink as she elbowed the girl beside her.

"Gross," Tommy said in disgust. He looked to Brandon, "Can you believe them?"

"Women," he snorted before giving the actor a second look, "He is a snappy dresser though, huh? I bet I could totally rock that look," the other man mused appreciatively, ignoring the dirty look Tommy was directing towards him.

"You people make me sick," he said flatly.

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It was the day after their trip to the furniture store and he and Felicity had just woken up and were heading down to breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" He called out to Mrs. Mack. "It's probably just McKenna!"

"Na yelling in th' hoose, Tommy Merlyn; we're civilzed fowk 'ere!" She shouted back from the kitchen, "An' a' ask her howfur she wants her eggs!"

He and Felicity exchanged grins and shrugged before both heading to the door.

"Hey, Mrs. McGregor wants to know how you want your eggs?" Tommy said as he opened the door…

…only to find Brandon leaning against the doorframe, his chin sporting several days of beard growth and his dark sunglasses hiding what were undoubtedly bloodshot eyes given the smell of liquor and pot that seemed to hover around him like cologne.

Brandon ran his hand through his already artfully disheveled hair and shrugged, "Anyway is fine by me as long as it's scrambled." He looked down at a gaping Felicity with a raised eyebrow, "Who's the runt?"

"Who're you?" Felicity shot back.

"Felicity, go wait for me in the kitchen," Tommy said, eyeing Brandon warily.

"Why?" She asked with a frown.

"Just go," he said in a firm tone. "Now."

She looked at him like she was going to argue but something in his expression must have told her that this was one time he was putting his foot down. Instead she just shot the intruder one last curious look before silently nodding and doing as she was told.

Tommy walked outside, shutting the door behind him before eyeing his friend carefully, "What are you doing here?"

Brandon stepped back, "I figured I'd swing by and check on you since you haven't been around for a while. Is something wrong, man?" He asked in confusion.

"No, it's just that I was expecting someone else, that's all," he said easily.

"Oh," he said, looking from Tommy to the door then back again, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No, man; I'm not," Tommy said without rancor.

"Seriously?" He laughed.

Tommy nodded.

The other man's face fell at that. "Are you mad at me or something?" Brandon asked with a hint of hurt.

"Naw, bro, I'm not mad at you, I just can't invite you in," he said in a quiet but firm tone.

"Why not?" He asked, removing his dark sunglasses and blinking against the harsh morning light as it hit his irritated eyes.

"Because you're wasted, that's why," he told him.

"I'm not wasted," he denied immediately. "I'm still a little buzzed but I'm good. Besides, why do you care if I'm a little hung over? It's not like I'm planning on puking in the petunias or whatever."

Tommy started to answer him but became distracted as McKenna's little white Miata pulled up in front of the house behind Brandon's Jag, the brand new fire engine red XKR convertible looking like everything the much older Mazda was desperately trying to be and more. She turned off the engine and got out of the car, her eyes immediately catching sight of Brandon as she jogged up the steps, "What's he doing here?" She asked, her nose wrinkling slightly as the smell of liquor and weed hit her nostrils. She turned to glare at Tommy, "Tell me you didn't let Felicity-?"

"No," he said immediately, "In fact, Brandon was just leaving."

"What? Why?" He asked looking between the two of them and not even bothering to hide the hurt in his eyes, "What did I do?"

"You showed up here drunk and high, you dumbass," McKenna said throwing him a disapproving look.

"I'm not high!" He insisted.

"Bullshit, you reek!" She told him.

"So? Like the two of you never came home a little partied out before?" He snorted.

"Not around Felicity we didn't," She said, crossing her arms.

"You mean that kid?" He asked, hitching his thumb towards the door. "Who is she anyway? What, the housekeeper's grandkid or something?" He shrugged, "Just send her away; what's the big deal?"

"She's not the housekeeper's granddaughter, she's Tommy's…" McKenna paused, "She's Tommy's," she said at last.

"She's Tommy's?" Brandon repeated slowly. "Tommy's what? Kid?"

"Yeah," McKenna said with a hard look towards the other man, "She's Tommy's kid; right Tommy?"

"Sort of," he said reluctantly. "Well, no, but…for now, yeah. I mean…" he wavered, "Okay, yeah, she's my kid, okay? Kind of," he added. "…but, you know, just…" He sighed, "Felicity's mine, okay? That's all you need to know and I can't have this around her so you can't be here."

Brandon snorted, "Unless you got started in elementary school, dude, you might want to get a paternity test because that ain't your kid."

"She's not-" he grimaced, "She's not my kid but I am responsible for her and you can't be here, not like this, I'm sorry."

"Okay," he said, his eyes softening as his smile dropped, "Um, like I said, I just wanted to come by and make sure you were okay after the other night. I figured you might want to talk or something, that's all. I'm just trying to be a stand up bro and maybe help Ollie out a little; help clear the way for him to come and apologize in person." He shifted his weight and glanced away for a second, "He came by the party last night looking for you but you didn't show so he asked me if I wouldn't mind extending the 'Oliver' branch, so to speak..."

Tommy closed his eyes for a second before turning to McKenna with an apologetic look, "Hey, can you go in and sit with Felicity for a while; make sure she doesn't come out here?" Brandon's frown deepened further at that but he remained quiet, his eyes darting warily between them as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his rumpled chinos.

"Yeah," she said, sparing Brandon one last look of disapproval before heading inside.

Brandon waited until she shut the door behind her before speaking, "I mean, I get that showing up a little fucked up from partying all night was kind of uncool but if you're not pissed over it then why's McKenna?" He asked with a frown. "Unless, of course, you are pissed at me?"

"I'm not pissed."

"Then why's McKenna being a bitch?" He asked bluntly. "Also, why the hell is she even here? Since when are you doing her? What; is it a revenge fuck or something? You're screwing Laurel's best friend so she knows you're over her?"

"First off, she's not being a bitch and we're not 'screwing' each other," Tommy told him, his irritation with the other man beginning to boil up to the surface, "Secondly, I could give a shit about Laurel or what she thinks. McKenna's upset with you being here because she's my friend and she's worried that Felicity will see you like this and that can't happen so, I'm sorry man, but you need to go and don't come back, okay?"

The other man's jaw dropped at that, "Seriously? Like don't come back until I clean up a little or ever?"

Tommy took a deep breath, steeling himself as he said what he knew he had to, "I'm sorry man, I like you, I do, but if I want to keep Felicity I have to cut some people out of my life and, unfortunately, you're one of them."

"What? Why?" He asked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion and hurt. "I can see how you'd be pissed at Ollie, but why me? Tommy, man, we're friends—best friends! It's always been me, you, and Ollie!" He swallowed and fidgeted once more, "Is this because of him and Laurel hooking up at my party? Because, man, I had nothing to do with what went down that night, I swear! Laurel just walked right up to Ollie and they practically started fucking right then and there. I tried to find you, head you off at the pass, but-!"

"Naw, man, it's not about that shit," he said cutting him off with a sorrowful look.

"Is it because he asked me to come talk to you? Because, I'm just trying to do him a solid here, so don't kill the messenger," he told him. "Honestly man, I'm just delivering a gesture of good will between two friends who happen to be going through a rough patch but, beyond that, I'm not taking sides. And," he paused dramatically, "if I was to take sides in this shit, I'd be on your side, believe me! I even told Ollie that was a fucked up move, swear to God; you can ask him!" He shrugged, "If, you know, you were talking to him, which you aren't, so you can't…but I totally did say that, I swear."

"It's not about Ollie, or Laurel, or you taking sides," he said wearily.

"What then?" He asked quietly.

He swallowed. Damn, this was harder than he thought it would be.

Brandon stood there, his expression wide open and as close to tears as he'd ever seen him. He'd always been the most sensitive of the three, the most vulnerable, always hiding his pain behind a smile and a party, but he and Ollie both knew just how much of a raw nerve Brandon was. In their world you either learned to develop a thick skin or you crashed and burned and Brandon was a train wreck in the making.

Everybody knew that Brandon was living on borrowed time. It was like there was a countdown in big neon numbers flashing above his head and, any minute now, there would be an obituary in the Starling Herald saying yet another rich kid bit the dust. Every year he got just a little more reckless, the drinking got just a little more out of hand, and the drugs got a hell of a lot harder.

They all drank and did their fair share of drugs, of course; alcohol being the least of it. Most of their friend's parents were either functioning alcoholics themselves or too busy to notice, so no one really cared. In fact, the only ones whose parents hadn't been to rehab at least once for a, quote, 'well needed rest due to exhaustion', were his and Ollie's. Of course, *they* still fell into the 'absentee' column and, up until recently, none of them ever said boo about the fact that their kids had been getting wasted regularly since they turned fourteen either. Brandon though, Brandon was out of control with that shit and had been for a while. In fact, this was the closest to sober he'd seen him in months and that was saying something.

But, as much as he cared about the guy, Felicity had to come first.

"I love you, man; I do, but the drugs are getting to be too much," he said honestly. "I've got too much on my plate so I gotta cut you loose; sorry."

He snorted again and looked at him askance, "'The drugs are getting to be too much?'" He shook his head, "I can't believe that you; the Wizard of Weed, is giving me this Narcotics Anonymous After School Special bullshit? Like just a couple of weeks ago you weren't sitting in the middle of my living room giving a lecture on how to roll a goddamn blunt the right way! Shit, man; you smoke more green than Snoop Dog!"

He nodded, "Yeah, okay, I'll admit that I smoked—a lot, but I quit the minute Felicity came to live here," he told him.

He snorted, "When was that? Because that little weed seminar was less than two weeks ago!"

"Sounds about right," he told him.

"So you've been clean and sober for all of two weeks and all of the sudden I'm some kind of degenerate junkie who isn't fit to even associate with anymore?" He asked accusingly.

Okay, now he was beginning to get a little fed up. He felt bad about doing it, he did, but he was tired of going the long way around everything and his breakfast was getting cold, so fuck it.

"First of all, you've been a degenerate junkie for a hell of a lot longer than two weeks, Brandon; we were all just too damn lost in our own shit to tell you," he said bluntly. "Second, yeah; I may have only been on the wagon for two weeks but that's plenty long enough for me to see what's wrong with my life and this," he gestured towards his rumpled and disheveled state, "I just don't want to live like that anymore."

"Live like what?" He asked him.

"Look at yourself," he told him. "I love you brother, but goddamn!" Brandon glanced down and straightened his clothes uncomfortably as he spoke, "I walked into that party the other night right before I caught Ollie and Laurel and….shit," he shook his head in disgust, "And what's worse is the fact that you and Ollie can't see it because you're both in it! I mean, look at you, you're a…"

His jaw tightened, "A what?"

"You know what?" He said instead, "I don't want to do this, man, so just go."

"No, I want to know what you really think about me," he scowled, "I want to hear how you're so much better than me and Ollie just because of some kid I've never even seen before!"

"It's not just about her."

"No?"

"No, it's because I don't want to wind up OD'd and dead in a ditch somewhere, man!" He said, finally losing his patience. "Look in the goddamn mirror, Brandon! You're a fucking mess!" The other man stumbled back, his face blanching at the vehemence in his voice but still he continued, "Seriously, people at school make jokes about how long it'll be before you turn up as a bloated corpse floating in somebody's pool!"

"Why are you saying this crap? What—I thought we were friends, Tommy!" Brandon stuttered, his face a mask of pain.

"We are friends, that's why I'm saying it!" He told him, shaking his head in disgust. "If I wasn't your friend I'd just shut the hell up and let you keep killing yourself, but I'm not that guy; not anymore. Look around, open your goddamn eyes and really look," he pointed towards the gleaming red convertible, "That's your third car this year, man; your third fucking car in less than six months and you show up here smelling like you're soaking in scotch and reeking of weed and, what's worse, you drove." He took a centering breath and advanced on him, causing the other man to look at him in confusion, "Brandon, bro, one of these days you're going to drive yourself off a cliff or into a tree, or OD and, hey, if that's what you want to do, if you want to die, that's fine. It's your life, right? Live hard, rock and roll, and leave a pretty corpse; what the fuck, right? But what happens when you go barreling down the road and hit some kid or sideswipe some suburban mom's minivan when she's taking her kids to daycare, huh? What then? You think your dad is gonna be able to buy your way out of that one?" He paused and watched as the man paled before answering his own question. "Well, guess again, buddy, because we both know Jack doesn't give two shits about you! The only reason he's bailed you out in the past is to cover his own ass, but the minute you kill a kid, he'll drop it like it's hot! It's one thing to drop a wad because you took out the neighbor's mailbox, but if you really fuck up, you and I both know he'll cut you out of his life and spin it to make it look like your drugged up mom was the one who led you astray while he and the slutty step-secretary make themselves out to be fuckin' Ward and June Cleaver."

He watched his friend's cheeks color at that as he averted his eyes guiltily then felt a weariness wash over him that seemed to seep into his bones, "You know what? Just go," he said at last. "I'm not going to lecture you or try to save you; it's your life, man; you do you." He stepped back, "You want to live like this, fine; just don't come back, okay? Just stay the hell away from me so I don't have to watch you kill yourself because that is not my idea of a good time."

"Tommy, wait-!" Brandon called out but Tommy ignored him as he entered the house and shut the door behind him.

He walked into the kitchen, his heart growing heavier with every step. He felt like a total shit but it had to be done, he reasoned. Plus, he wasn't wrong; Brandon was out of control and he promised Malcolm he'd keep people like that away from Felicity. Still, he felt like a total shit heel for doing it.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, McKenna and Felicity's gazes met his; Felicity's filled with curiosity and McKenna's with sympathy.

"You okay?" McKenna asked softly as he sat down in front of his plate that was stacked high with French toast and bacon.

"Yeah," he lied.

"You did the right thing sending him away," she said, obviously seeing right through him.

"Yeah," he nodded. He already knew it had been the right thing to do.

It didn't make him feel any better though

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"I'd totally do Teresa. Seriously," Brandon said looking over to him for affirmation.

"Yeah, she's hot," he agreed then frowned at the television again, "Aw, come on! TC, man; don't do it. Cut Liz out, she's evil!"

"Aye, she's a right wicked hoor, that yin," Mrs. McGregor muttered as she scowled at the television.

"What's a 'hoor'?" Felicity asked with a frown.

"Tut!" The older woman said with a shushing noise. "Ne'er ye mind whit that word is 'n' dinnae ye gang repeating it either or ah will wash yer geggy oot wi' carbolic mush juist lik' ah used tae dae Tommy's!"

"But you said it first," the little girl pointed out with a frown.

The housekeeper flushed, "Hush noo; juist watch th' tellybox 'n' quit a' o` yer yammering or ah'll send ye tae yer room! A'm missing mah stories."

Tommy scowled as the man on the screen caved, "Aw man! Moron," he said with a snort.

"Eve's gonna be pissed," Brandon said with a low whistle. "Plus Julian isn't going to be happy; wasn't he trying to get her to leave town?"

"Yeah, but—" The scene changed and Tommy frowned again, "Why do they keep switching the scenes like that? Why are we back in the hospital? I wanted to see what TC was going to do and now we're back with Teresa and Ethan? What the hell?"

Mrs. Mack reached over to cuff him on the side of the head causing him to yelp, "Watch yer foul tongue, Tommy Merlyn," she said giving him a hard look before turning back to the screen, "Forby, a'm curious aboot this bit tae see if Ethan is aff tae gang back tae his proper guidwife, even if her mither is a harridan, or tae Teresa wha shuid ken better by noo!"

McKenna nodded and shared a look with the elderly woman sitting beside her, "I mean, I do think Gwen kind of deserves to suffer a little because she trapped him and all, but I also feel kind of bad for her. I mean, she's pregnant with his baby, her mom is like a total nightmare, and he's practically declaring his love for Teresa right outside the curtain. Seriously, it's a curtain—how they can't hear what the dizzy mother is saying is beyond me.""

She nodded, "Aye, that mither is a piece o' wirk, then again, that Teresa shuid ken better than tae huv a go tae git atween a jimmy 'n' his guidwife. Plus she's nae exactly a saint herself despite that butter wilnae melt in her geggy routine." She huffed, "If she wanted him sae ill then she shuid hae merrit him 'n' kept him instead o' running aff wi' anither jimmy th' wey she did while up th' duff wi' that one's bairn. Mah mither aye said guid girl's git in trauchle 'n' bad girl's tak' care o' themselves, sae thare isnae ony pity in haein a bairn oot o' wedlock, bit adultery is a hail ither kettle o' fish if ye ask me. If that Teresa wis as guid a left footer lassie as she claims then she shuid ken better!"

"Do you understand a word she's saying, because I am totally lost here?" Brandon whispered, looking at the elderly housekeeper askance.

"Occasionally," Tommy told him. "Usually I just get Felicity to translate it for me though and, even then, it's pretty much hit or miss." He frowned at the television again, "When are they going to get Sheraton out of that pit anyway?"

"Hopefully before she gives birth," Felicity said dryly. "Otherwise that could be a problem."

"Yeah, if I ever have a kid I'd prefer to have it someplace other than in a hole," McKenna said with a frown. "Also, I'd like drugs. Lots and lots of drugs."

"Aye," Mrs. Mack said solemnly, "Whin ah hud mah Jamie ah hud him at mah mother-in-law's hoose wi'oot sae muckle as an asprin tae relieve th' pain." Her eyebrows shot up as she tendered the younger woman with a solemn look, "Ah wis in labor fur ower 26 hours afore th' midwife finally clapped his wee bahookie 'n' he anounced his presence tae th' world. Th' neist time mah labors cam wi' his sister Jemma, ah did it in th' hospital whaur thay pat me tae kip 'n' didnae wake me up 'til she wis scrubbed poofy culur 'n' awready bundled in her blanket. If ye ask me that's th' wey it shuid be dane, tae!"

Brandon poked him on the arm and hitched his chin towards the housekeeper with a confused look.

"I don't know, man; all I heard was 'asprin' and something about a blanket," he shrugged then shook his head as he watched the drama play out before them. "Yeah, TC knows he screwed up. You were right; Eve is gonna be pissed!"

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"We should go outside and look around the pool house a little before we decide on the entertainment," McKenna said as they headed out of the kitchen.

"Why?" Tommy frowned. "It's just a pool party; we can just toss a couple of floats and a beach ball into the pool, open a pack of hotdogs, and that'll be that."

"I don't think so," McKenna said with a snort. "Besides, Felicity and I have plans."

"Lots of plans," the younger girl agreed.

"What kind of 'plans'?" Tommy asked suspiciously.

"It's a surprise," Felicity said with a grin.

"It can't be that big of a surprise because there's no way Mrs. Mack will go for something too big," he warned them. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of surprised she's even letting us near the grill. I thought for sure she'd accuse us of trying to burn the place down!"

"Oh, she did," McKenna said smartly. "But then Felicity and I promised to supervise."

Felicity nodded, "She even made us swear we'd keep at least two fire extinguishers near the grill just in case."

He sighed, "Fine."

The truth was he wasn't even sure he wanted a party after what went down that morning with Brandon. After all, it's not like he could invite anybody he knew, not with Felicity there. Sure he promised her he'd invite Laurel and Ollie so they could get their 'revenge', but chances are they wouldn't show, especially when they found out that a 'pool party' meant just that; a pool party and cook out. There would be no drugs, no making out with half-naked chicks poolside, and no alcohol, not even beer; the hardest thing there would be caffeine and cake.

At Ollie's birthday party a few months ago when they got busted for stealing a taxi (because it was there and who had time to wait for the driver to get out of the can because, as Ollie said, places to go, people to do), while they were waiting for Robert to bail them out and pay off the cabbie, he swore that when Malcolm went on his China trip he was going to top him by filling the whole pool with beer just so he could swim in it.

Picture that; an Olympic sized swimming pool filled with beer and him in the center just floating in the middle of a sudsy yeast-filled paradise. He was going to do a Long Island Iced Tea thing with vodka, rum, gin, triple sec, tequila, along with a shitload of sweet and sour mix and coke because it just seemed more mature than beer (and he was entering into adulthood after all), but then someone, probably Sara, pointed out that swimming in pure liquor could kill you, so he decided beer was a better alternative.

He even did the research, priced the different liquor distributors, but now... He sighed, even compared to that lame ass affair Moira threw for Ollie's 'official' birthday where Carter Bowen and his mom showed up to brag about his early admission to Harvard while they rolled their eyes at his utter douchebaggery, this was going to suck total ass.

He glanced at Felicity's bright eyes and felt his lips curve into a smile. Oh well, this party was more for her than it was for him anyway, he reasoned. After all, he stopped caring about things like birthdays a long time ago. Before she came into his life, as far as he was concerned, it was just another reason to get wasted.

When they got to the French doors that led to the path to the pool house, he frowned, "It's raining pretty hard out there."

McKenna looked at the rain splattered glass as lightning streaked across the sky followed by the angry rumble of thunder, "So?"

"So we can't go out in the rain," he reasoned.

"Why not?" She asked with a superior lift of her finely arched eyebrow, "Are you afraid of getting a little wet, Tommy Merlyn?"

"Why, are you?" He asked with a naughty twinkle.

Yeah, they agreed to keep it 'just friends', but still, that one needed to be said.

"Why would she be afraid of getting wet?" Felicity asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"Um…" Tommy stumbled, suddenly realizing just how quickly that one backfired on him.

"Tommy's just being a pervert," McKenna said, rolling her eyes at him.

"How is McKenna getting rained on perverted?" She asked him innocently. "Is that some kind of a sex thing or something?"

"Um, uh, well…" he hemmed and hawed as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Yeah, it's a sex thing," McKenna said blithely. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it later."

"No, you won't!" Tommy exclaimed, finally coming out of his stupor. He moved closer to McKenna and hissed, "She's only twelve."

"And she's going to be, what? Thirteen in a couple of weeks?" She pointed out. "Plus, she's about to be a junior in high school, she's got to learn about this stuff sometime."

"What does her being a junior have to do with anything?" He scowled.

McKenna gave him a disparaging look, "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"He was fourteen," Felicity answered for him.

"I was fifteen!" He said quickly, "Almost. And, besides, Felicity doesn't need to hear that stuff because she's not having sex until she's at least twenty-five…or thirty." He paused, "Maybe thirty-five, I haven't decided yet."

McKenna tilted her head to the side and blinked at him slowly, "So, you got your cherry popped when you were fourteen-"

"Fifteen," he corrected her, "Like fourteen and three hundred and sixty-four days, so basically fifteen."

"But you expect Felicity to wait until she's twenty-five?" She asked, ignoring him.

"Yeah, so?" He blustered.

"Why?" She asked him.

"Yeah, why?" Felicity asked with a frown.

"Because she—you—" he looked down at the girl in question, "*You* don't need to have sex until you're old enough to, you know, do that kind of…stuff."

"But you were old enough to do that stuff at 'almost' fifteen?" McKenna said archly.

"Yeah, well, there's a difference; I'm a guy," he shrugged.

She made a soft 'oh' then pursed her lips at that, "So, what are you saying then; that you lost your virginity to another guy?"

"No," he said taken aback.

"So how old was the girl? Twenty-five?" She asked sarcastically, "Because that's statutory rape, my friend. I just might have to report her."

"No, but she wasn't like Felicity," he said, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"And why's that?" She hummed. "Because when a guy has sex, he's a stud, but when a girl has sex, she's a slut?"

"No, I didn't say that," he said defensively.

"It kind of sounded like it," she told him.

"It kind of did," Felicity agreed.

"Well, that's not what I meant!" He said churlishly.

"Expecting a girl to stay a virgin until you say it's okay, even if it is Felicity," she emphasized, "is not only degrading and sexist as hell, but it's a total double standard."

"Yeah!" Felicity agreed.

"But she's twelve!" He said pointing to her, "Twelve is too young to be talking about any of this stuff!"

"Uh, no," McKenna said crossing her arms over her chest once more. "First off, she's almost thirteen. Secondly, it's better she knows this stuff now instead of later when some horny guy is trying to get into her pants and filling her head up with nonsense like how you can't get pregnant the first time or while doing it in a hot tub or something equally stupid as that."

"What does being in a hot tub have to do with not being able to get pregnant?" Felicity asked with a frown.

"Something about the chemicals in the water combined with the temperature kills sperm or something," McKenna said dismissively, "It doesn't matter; it's a stupid horny boy lie. A good rule of thumb to remember when it comes to boys and sex is that, no matter what they tell you, they're always lying."

"Really?" She asked looking from the other girl to Tommy.

"Pretty much, yeah," Tommy admitted reluctantly.

"And always use a condom," she told Felicity. "Even with birth control, always use a condom. Say it with me."

"Always use a condom," she repeated dutifully.

"I am not happy right now," Tommy muttered. "This was supposed to be a fun day, and now you've got Felicity talking about condoms and hot tub sex…"

"That's right," McKenna nodded firmly *still* ignoring him (which was annoying as hell, by the way). "Because birth control doesn't kill STDs and nothing is 100% effective. My cousin was on birth control, got an ear infection and went on antibiotics, and the next thing you know she and her boyfriend are getting married then seven months later she gave birth to a nine pound, nine ounce 'preemie' named Oscar."

Tommy gave her a pleading look, "Please, for the love of God, I'll admit that I'm a stupid chauvinist double-standard whatever, I'll even shout it from the rooftops; you win! I give up, please can we just stop talking about this now?"

"You're the one who told her you had sex when you were fourteen, not me!" She snorted.

"Yeah, but that was an accident," he admitted reluctantly.

"More like bragging," she said rolling her eyes.

"It was not bragging!" He protested. "Actually I was telling Felicity how much I regretted it, wasn't I? Tell her," he said, turning to the younger girl.

"Actually, all you did was yell and say that sex and drugs were bad and that I should never do them, and then you made me repeat it before you'd let me pee," she said instead.

"Well, what I meant to say was that I regretted it and wished that I had waited," he scowled.

"Waited for what?" McKenna asked dryly. "Waited for Jennifer Lopez to dump Ben Affleck so she could make a man out of you instead? Because if that's what you're hoping for, hate to break it to you Merlyn, but Bennifer is here to stay…despite the rumors in the tabloids," she added. "That is true love, my friend. You don't leave Jenny from the Block for long."

"Plus they made that music video and two movies," Felicity nodded. "They are so getting back together."

"No, I just meant that I wished I had waited to find someone special, that's all," he flushed.

"Aw, that's so sweet," she said flatly. "And how many girls have you been with since then that were 'special'?" She hummed. "And by 'special' I mean your one true love and not 'special' as in the Olympics."

Since he couldn't answer that one without completely losing the argument, he went on the defensive instead, "Well, how old were you when you first had sex, huh?" He asked her.

"Who says I have?" She asked him archly.

His jaw dropped at that, "You're a virgin?"

"Why? What difference would it make if I was?" She asked him. "Would it change your opinion of me somehow? Would my being a virgin make me better than someone who wasn't, or would it mean I'm some kind of prude? You know, you can't have it both ways, Tommy, so pick one; whore or Madonna, which one am I?"

He faltered at that, "I, um, I…"

"What's a 'whore'?" Felicity asked, interrupting his train of babble.

"It's a hooker," McKenna told her.

"Oh," she nodded. "What's a 'hooker'?"

"It's a prostitute; in other words, it's a person who takes money in exchange for sex."

"Oh God," Tommy moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh," she said again. "Can boys be hookers or just girls?"

"Boys can be hookers only they're called 'rent boys' or 'gigolos' ," McKenna said cheerfully. "That or Tommy Merlyn and Ollie Queen but, to be fair, they're more like mansluts than actual hookers since I doubt they actually charge people for sex. Or do you?" She asked Tommy pointedly.

"I hate you," he said with all the sincerity he could muster.

Felicity, however, merely nodded as if filing that away so that she could bring it up again at some other completely inappropriate moment like during dinner in a public place or in front of Malcolm, "So what's the difference between a hooker and a slut?"

"A slut does what a hooker does only she doesn't charge for it, instead she just pays for it with her self-respect," she told her dryly. "Also, unlike with hookers, only girls can be sluts; according to Tommy anyway," she said, giving him another triumphant look.

"I just…I just really want to stop having this conversation now," Tommy said in a pained voice as he scrubbed his hands over his face and moaned. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You started it," McKenna shrugged.

"No, I didn't," Tommy told her. "In fact, I can't even remember how this whole conversation even got started in the first place."

"You asked McKenna if she was afraid to get wet," Felicity answered.

He felt his face grow hot, "Okay, well, let's just…" he cleared his throat, "Let's just go out to the pool house and stop talking about *this*."

"Why?" McKenna drawled, "Looking forward to getting me wet, Tommy Merlyn?"

"I really, *really* hate you right now," he told her before heading out into the rain.

"And I really wish someone would tell me what that means," Felicity said loudly as the summer storm raged around them.

"I'll tell you later," McKenna said with a squeal as they all ran through the stinging raindrops and headed towards the pool house which was, in matter of fact, larger than most regular family homes and matched the style and color scheme of the main house with its blue gabled roof and white painted shutters.

One of the things Tommy always appreciated about his family's home was that, unlike the Queen's mansion (which was, in fact, a castle that had been moved to Starling brick by brick by one of Robert's ancestors), the Merlyn mansion looked like an actual house, only bigger. Plus, unlike the drafty and empty halls of the Queen mansion, their house was much more up to date and modern. Malcolm had it built for Tommy's mother before they got married and, even though they were further from the ocean front than the Queen's (Malcolm wanted to build it further back to protect it from tsunamis and tropical cyclones similar to the one raging all around them now), it was designed to look like a larger version of the beach 'cottages' his mother grew up with in the Hamptons. The pool/guest house, while built on a much smaller scale than the main house, was just as lavish but, at the same time, quaint and homey with its weathered shingles, wraparound porch, and widow's walk on the roof.

It was there in the pool house that Tommy always felt closest to his mother. Rebecca, during what little free time she had between working at her clinic in the Glades and doing charity work, would often paint in the top most bedroom overlooking the expanse of tall trees to the ocean. Although she wasn't a skilled artist by any means, using the watercolors both frustrated and relaxed her and she would often sit and paint with Tommy for hours at a time while talking about her childhood in Gotham. She talked about her private school, the same one Felicity now attended, and about the summers she spent on the coast with Granny and Grandpa Bob; about how different the sea outside their window was from the cold, choppy waters of the Atlantic, but how she missed it anyway.

For a long time after she died, he couldn't even bear to look at the pool house until, one day, he wandered back up to that room where they used to paint together and it was as though he could still hear her laughter and smell the sweet floral notes of the perfume she always wore. After that, the pool house became his refuge and, later, a place to lose himself in alcohol and weed as he allowed his pain to ebb away.

Although, at that moment, it felt less like a safe haven and more like a trap as his eyes caught sight of the shivering form of the man in front of him.

"Brandon?" He blinked as the girls, now soaked and dripping wet, came up beside him.

"The door was locked," Brandon said, rising shakily to his feet.

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"You know, even though Julian is creepy and the son of the devil and everything, he and Eve do make a cute couple," Brandon offered with a frown. "I'd totally do her."

"Watch it," Tommy hissed, elbowing him and nodding his head towards Felicity.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Somebody needs to throw that flaky mother into a pit next," McKenna said with a scowl. "She's making me mad now and I just want to slap her!"

Mrs. Mack answered the girl's frown with one of her own, "Aye, she does mak' yi'll want tae skelp her a guid yin, doesn't she? If ah wur thare a'd gie her a guid beating then skelp some sense intae her."

Brandon gestured towards the screen again, "I mean, seriously, I think I could pull off that shirt Ethan is wearing, don't you? I could so rock the whole wide stripes and khakis Miami Beach thing."

"They're not in Miami, they're in New England," Felicity told him.

"No, they aren't," he huffed.

"No, she's right," McKenna told him. "Harmony is supposed to be located somewhere on the coast of Maine. That's why there's all that supernatural stuff going on; because it was founded around the time of the Salem Witch trials or something."

Felicity nodded, "Yeah, see, Tabitha, the witch, she's over three hundred years old and she moved to Harmony in the late 17th century only to wind up getting burned at the stake."

McKenna hummed, "And after her resurrection, she vowed vengeance on the Cranes because she held one of their ancestor's responsible for the whole 'killing her' thing. Oh, and the reason she keeps trying to kill Charity is because she supposedly was born with the ultimate powers of good and Tabitha was ordered by the Dark Forces; those are those things in the basement she keeps talking to, to kill her" she explained.

"Aye, tis a gateway tae hell 'n' damnation itself, Jesus wept," the older woman said, crossing herself again.

"Yeah, so these 'dark forces' ordered her to destroy Charity in order to keep her from mating with her one true love, Miguel, because if they ever got together it would supposedly trigger her full powers of goodness, thereby eradicating all evil from the universe forever, including Tabitha," she finished. "Of course, then her little doll, Timmy, fell in love with Charity and kept messing things up on purpose to stop her."

Felicity nodded, "Then this other witch, Hecuba, got involved when Kay sold her soul to her in order to get her help to make Miguel fall in love with her, then froze Charity in a block of ice, while her evil doppelgänger, Zombie Charity, took her place."

"Zombie Charity," Tommy repeated slowly.

"Um hmm," she hummed, "So then, in order to save the real Charity, Timmy who turned human because he made a wish and this little angel girl changed him, decided to save her. He and Julian traveled across some kind of magical countryside to get this thing called the Demon's Horn in order to destroy the zombie version of Charity and restore the real Charity."

McKenna nodded, "Right, but using it killed Timmy, then Charity, because she'd been frozen for so long, needed a heart transplant, so Tabitha, knowing how much Timmy loved her, let her have his heart then decided to stop hating her since she loved Timmy and part of him was inside of her."

"This is one messed up show," Tommy said shaking his head.

"Which one is in love with the monkey nurse?" Brandon asked.

"Luis," McKenna told him. "Only he isn't in love with Precious, Precious is in love with him."

"Okay…" Tommy nodded in confusion. "So he's a gay monkey nurse named Precious and he's in love with Luis but Luis doesn't know?"

"No, well, first off, Precious isn't a monkey, she's an orangutan which is an ape," Felicity told him. "Secondly, the character of Precious is a girl even though the orangutan who plays her is a boy."

"So he's a cross-dressing monkey nurse who's in love with a dude?" Brandon asked, still confused.

"I don't care if Precious is a boy ape or a girl monkey; Luis is hot!" McKenna said firmly. "I'd crush on him, too, if I were her!"

"He's not that hot," Tommy huffed.

"He's totally hot," Felicity agreed. "Hank's hot, too."

"Aye, he is ferr a braw fellow, isnae he?" Mrs. McGregor said, pursing her lips and playing with the little gold crucifix that hung from her neck as the character in question came into view.

"Eh, I hate his voice. I just want to hit him in the face," McKenna said with a noise of distaste.

"How is this not Miami?" Brandon asked in confusion. "It looks like Miami, they dress like they're in Miami, half the people on this show are Latino, and they keep heading off to someplace that looks a lot like Cuba if you ask me? I mean, they have *palm trees*! Since when does Maine have *palm trees*?"

"Dude, since when does Maine have witches with gateways to hell in the basement?" Tommy asked wryly.

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"Brandon, man, what the hell are you still doing here?" He asked. "I told you to go home!"

Brandon sniffled as he wiped his soaking wet hair off his forehead, "Uh, well, you said I was too wasted to drive and the thing about me killing somebody, and I started thinking about it and…" he looked down and swallowed, then mumbled something.

"What?" Tommy asked, straining to hear him over the storm.

"I said I don't want to die in a ditch or kill anybody!" He said in a loud voice, his face crumpling slightly. "I-I don't want to wind up as somebody's punchline!"

"Aw, bro…" he said, looking on as the other man covered his eyes with one hand, the other still shoved in his pockets as his shoulders began to shake.

"You and Ollie are it, man!" Brandon said with a sob as he looked up at him. "I mean, I don't really have anybody else and Ollie, you know, he's okay but he never really gave much of a shit about anything; you though…I mean, you always got it." He shook his head, "I just—I don't have anything else and if you stop being my bro then…" he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, "I just…you're all I've got left, you know?"

"Man, I'm sorry but…" Tommy began only to be cut off by Felicity.

"We should get him inside the house," she said, placing her hand on his arm.

"Felicity, I can't," he told her. "I promised Malcolm I wouldn't let you near this stuff."

"Please?" She asked looking up at him with a pleading expression. "Malcolm doesn't need to know and he needs our help."

"She's right," McKenna said, her hand cupped over her dark eyes to protect them from the rain. "Let's just go inside and we can sort it out in there."

"He's drunk," Tommy told her, leaning in so he could speak in low tones.

She looked at Brandon then back to him and shook her head, "He doesn't look drunk to me. In fact, he looks pretty damn sober for once."

"Please, man?" Brandon asked him.

"Okay, fine, but only until the storm ends and then you have to go home," Tommy said reluctantly before stepping up to the keypad and entering the code to let them all inside.

"Okay, yeah," Brandon said gratefully as they all filed in behind him.

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McKenna frowned at the blonde woman screaming on the screen as she clutched her distended belly in fear, "You know, Sheraton has some really crappy luck; buried alive, kidnapped, sunk on a yacht, blown up, now pregnant in a pit; what's next, brain tumor?"

"Twenty bucks says she gets a brain tumor," Brandon said turning to Tommy.

"Done," Tommy said, already reaching for his wallet.

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"We keep clean clothes and stuff in all the rooms," Tommy said as he looked around uncomfortably. "My mom's studio is in the room below the loft space," he said looking at McKenna whose arms had broken out in goosebumps. "I think she still has some dresses and sweaters and stuff in the closet. My dad never touched it so you can just take what you need."

"You're sure?" She asked uncertainly.

"Yeah," he told her with a shrug. "It's just clothes."

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"If you can't find anything I can bring you some of my sweats or something," he added then turned to Brandon, "You already know where I keep my stuff, right?"

"Yeah, thanks man," he said, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

"And do us all a favor and take a shower," McKenna told him. "You kind of stink."

"Yeah," Felicity said, wrinkling her nose slightly. "You smell like Tommy's room before Mrs. McGregor had the maids clean it."

"Sorry about that," Brandon mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"I'm going to run back to the house and get you something to wear," Tommy told her.

"Bring some umbrellas, too," she told him as she followed McKenna upstairs to show her to the room.

"Okay," he told her. He went to leave when Brandon caught his arm.

"I mean it; thanks, man," he told him.

"It's okay," Tommy told him then sighed, "Look, go clean up and we'll talk when I get back, okay?"

"Yeah," he agreed before removing his hand and climbing slowly up the stairs.

A few minutes later he was back inside the cottage, a hastily packed duffle bag slung over one shoulder and an armload of umbrellas tucked under his other arm.

He went ahead and grabbed some t-shirts and sweats for McKenna on the off chance his mom's clothes didn't fit her, along with a dry change of clothes for himself, and a blue cotton sundress and underwear he'd fished out of her closet and drawers for Felicity. It wasn't really cold outside, just damp and windy, but he also brought her a sweater just in case. She tended to always be chilly anyway, her ice cold toes constantly seeking out the warmth of his legs as she hogged the blankets.

He made his way up the stairs then pulled his own clothes out of the bag before knocking on the door and setting it on the floor, "Hey, I brought you clothes!"

"Okay!" He heard Felicity giggle out as she and McKenna spoke in tones too low for him to hear on the other side.

He grinned then shook his head before heading to his room to change. At first he'd been nervous about letting McKenna in, but Felicity really seemed to like her and the two of them were getting along, even if it meant teaming up against him. That was okay though, he decided. He could take the occasional ego bruise if it meant seeing her happy.

He walked into the room and heard the shower going full blast as steam came boiling out. He walked inside and snatched a towel off the shelf to dry his hair then walked back into the bedroom without disturbing the man behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

He briefly thought about going into one of the guestrooms for a shower as well but dismissed that idea. He'd just taken a shower less than an hour ago and, besides, he wasn't that cold. Instead he just stripped off his wet things then tugged on a fresh pair of underwear that he'd brought along, followed by a pair of jeans and a Green Day t-shirt. He would have chosen a different shirt (even though Green day was okay as emo bands went) but the upside to choosing this one was that there were no scantily clad women on it (even though, according to Ollie, the emo dudes in mascara and eyeliner were all pretty much women themselves) so neither McKenna nor Felicity could say anything about him being a male chauvinist pig or whatever.

The downside was that they were probably going to call him an 'idiot' for the rest of the day since the words 'american idiot' were typed in white boldface letters just below the words 'GREEN DAY' along with the silhouette of a heart shaped grenade.

But, again, as long as they were happy, he could put up with it.

As he was getting dressed, the shower stopped and, less than a couple of minutes later. Brandon emerged from the bathroom dressed in a pair of his long board shorts and a rough cotton Baha over what appeared to be the surf shop tee shirt he picked up last year when he went sailing with Ollie and his dad down to the Bahamas.

"Hey," Brandon said, clearing his throat as he dropped the towel he was using into a chair and began to finger comb his sandy blonde hair into some semblance of order.

"Hey," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Listen Brandon, I…" he began.

"It's cool," Brandon said cutting him off. "I mean, I get it; I showed up at your place smelling like shit and loaded; I don't blame you for wanting to kick my ass to the curb."

"Dude, I don't want to 'kick you to the curb'," he said with a sigh. "It's just that now that I have Felicity, I can't afford to keep fucking off all the time and, while I could give two shits about school and keeping straight before, I…"

"Yeah," he said with a grimaced then looked up in surprise, "Wait, Felicity; is she the one Ollie calls 'the orphan'?" He asked. "I thought he said that you hated her? Why are you taking care of her all of the sudden?"

"I don't hate her," Tommy said gruffly. "Yeah, I didn't much care for her at first but she…I don't know," he said grimacing, "She kind of…grew on me." He took a centering breath before looking him in the eye, "I like her," he said firmly and with a hint of pride. "She's cool, and funny, and I like having her around."

"So, this thing with you avoiding your friends and partying and stuff is only temporary?" He asked him carefully. "I mean, after she goes back to wherever she came from, then you'll-?"

"It's not temporary," Tommy cut him off. "She's staying here with me; I'm taking care of her from now on."

"Wait; what?" He said in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"It means just that; she's mine now," Tommy told him. "My responsibility, and Malcolm said if I wanted to keep her then I had to cut the shit, so if I have to choose between keeping her or partying, I'll choose Felicity every time."

He looked at him blankly, "You're keeping her?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"And she's yours?"

"Yeah."

"She's yours, as in she belongs to you like a…like a what? Like a pet or something?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Like a-!" He gave him a dirty look, "She's not a dog, she's a kid!"

"Yeah, but *you're* a kid," he pointed out.

"Well, then it's time for me to stop being a kid, isn't it?" He scowled. "I's like that bible thing Mrs. Mack is always talking about. You know, with the 'Once I was a kid so I did kid stuff, but now I'm a man, so I decided to stop doing all that other stuff.'"

"I don' t think that's how it goes," he said with a frown.

"I'm paraphrasing," he said dismissively. "The point is that the Wizard has left the house, okay? This is my life now; Tommy and Felicity, that's it."

"Tommy and Felicity and that's it?" He repeated while looking at him askance, "Do you really mean that? That you like this kid enough to quit your friends, your bros; everything?" He asked.

"I guess," he said with a shrug. "I mean…no, that about sums it up actually, so yeah; I like her enough to quit my bros and everything that goes along with that."

"But why?" He asked in disbelief. "I mean, she seems like a pretty good kid, don't get me wrong. I mean, I've never actually talked to her but she seems okay, but…shit Tommy; you don't quit your bros just to babysit full time! I could see cutting back maybe, taking it easy on the partying, but that's no reason to cut your friends out of your life!"

"Why not?" He chuckled humorlessly, "What better reason is there? Man, have you seen my so-called 'friends'? I went to your party the other day looking for my 'friends' and all I found was a bunch of fake ass people pretending to enjoy whatever the fuck kind of teenage wasteland they wandered into, drinking all of your old man's good booze, while Ollie fucked my dream girl right in front of them but no one said shit to me because they were all too stoned or just didn't care enough to notice."

His cheeks flushed guiltily at that, "Okay, so what Ollie did was fucked up, but still…"

"It's not about Ollie; not entirely," he told him. "Frankly, I was over that shit a few minutes after I caught Laurel playing cowgirl while she was riding his dick! She really wasn't that important to me; Felicity is."

"Yeah, well, Thea is important to Ollie but it hasn't stopped him from hanging out and she's his real sister, not just some…whatever she is," he argued.

"Whatever she is?" Tommy repeated darkly.

Brandon threw his hands up in surrender, "Hey, no offense meant; I just don't know what to call her. If you say she's your sister, then—"

"She's not my sister," Tommy told him, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach at hearing him dismiss her so easily. It reminded him of the way Moira talked about her only, this time, he knew what to say, "She's more than *just* my sister, or *just* some little kid, man; I promised to take care of her so this isn't *just* babysitting for me."

"I get that, I do," Brandon said, backing off slightly. "But Ollie—"

"First off, Ollie isn't exactly the kind of guy I aspire to be someday, okay?" He snorted. "I mean, while I'm cool with him banging Laurel, it was still a shitty thing to do, and Ollie isn't exactly the most responsible guy in the world. Hell, I left him in the kitchen with Felicity for less than half an hour and he nearly got her killed! Secondly, Thea may be his sister but Ollie isn't responsible for her; she's got Moira and Robert watching out for her, but I'm all Felicity's got, so don't even try to compare what this is to what he and Thea have because it's not the same. He's *just* Thea's brother; he can fuck up his life all day long and she'll still be okay, but this is different than that."

"Different how?" He asked, his brow furrowing. "She's got Malcolm, right? He could just-"

"Malcolm?" Tommy said wryly. "Seriously, man, if you think Malcolm is going to step up here then you obviously haven't been paying attention."

"I'm just saying that you were a lot younger than her when Malcolm took a powder so she'll be fine," he said quickly.

"She'll be 'fine'?" He chuckled darkly, "Your parents took off, your dad with the step-secretary and your mom with whatever bottle she happens to grab first; are you fine?"

"No, I guess not," he said, his eyes cast towards the floor.

"No, well neither am I, and I don't want Felicity to have to deal with the shit we had to deal with; not alone. Besides, I had Ollie and his folks watching out for me, she only has me."

"How do you know?" Brandon asked. "Maybe she could stay over at their house with Thea while you, me, and Ollie hang out?"

"And do what? What would Felicity do over there; she's going to be thirteen in a few weeks and Thea's only five?"

"I don't know; play with Barbie dolls?" He said uncertainly.

"I don't think so," he said with an eye roll. "Besides, she wouldn't be comfortable over there alone and Moira wasn't exactly nice to her the last time they got together so that's not happening." He gave him a steady look, "Why do you care if I stop partying anyway?"

"What do you mean?" He asked with a frown.

"I mean, why is it so important that I keep getting wasted with you guys?"

"I just don't want to break up the band," he told him. "I mean, it's always been me, you, and Ollie; remember?"

"You really believe that, don't you?" He asked him wryly.

He looked at him uncertainly, "Why wouldn't I?"

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Brandon looked at him, "I'm definitely going to the mall later. I wonder if that shirt comes in other colors? I mean, I could pull off the khaki but I'd definitely look better in blue."

"I could go for a trip to the mall," Felicity said speaking up.

"Me, too," McKenna said absently before gesturing towards the screen again and turning towards the housekeeper. "You know, I get how Gwen is way out of line and that her mom is driving her nuts over Ethan but, you're right; what *is* Teresa doing at the hospital anyway? She's the ex; you shouldn't be hanging all over your ex with his pregnant girlfriend in the next room. And, just for the record, I don't buy her whole 'butter won't melt in my mouth' act either because you know she's still hot for Ethan! It's pretty obvious," she huffed.

"Yeah, because of the whole dramatic music thing whenever they're anywhere near each other," Tommy snorted.

The older woman nodded solemnly, "Tis a wicked gam she's playing fur sure. They're a' playin' wi' fire if ye ask me. Mark mah wurds, hee haw guid wull come o' it."

Felicity grinned dreamily at the screen, her head propped up on her hands and elbows on the table, "Fox is a fox, too."

"No, Fox is a jerk," Tommy said glaring at the television.

"Is it just me or does that guy remind you of Ollie?" McKenna asked.

"Fox doesn't look anything like Ollie," Brandon objected.

She nodded, "Must be the jerk thing, then."

"Man, TC; told you so. Eve is pissed!" Tommy burst out, pointedly ignoring both of them.

"You know, Eve is a doctor; you'd think she could figure out a way to slip something in her drink or something that couldn't be traced back to her," McKenna murmured to Mrs. McGregor who, along with Felicity, had become something of a partner in crime.

"If ah wur ever tae murdurr somebody a'd gang oot tae th' back green shed 'n' git some o' that ant killer then mak' up a batch o' corn breid that th' mister is sae fond o'." She paused thoughtfully, "Come tae think o' it, ah dae hae a' o' th' ingredients fur a crakin' pot o' chili in th' pantry."

"Tomato leaves are poisonous, too," Felicity offered. "You could make a salad to go with the chili and cornbread."

"Are we having chili for dinner?" Tommy asked hopefully.

Brandon scowled at the television, "I hate Hank. I hate the way he says 'buddy' like that. Like 'BUD-DEE'. It's like he's playing Arnold without the accent."

"This show has the worst actors," Tommy agreed. "Just for the record, we are having chili for dinner tonight though, right?"

"It's ninety degrees outside!" McKenna scoffed.

"So what? Who says it has to be cold outside to eat chili?" He asked her. "You eat ice cream in the wintertime, don't you?"

"Can we have ice cream?" Felicity asked hopefully.

"Aye, oan baith counts," the housekeeper told them, her attention fixed on the screen. "Gang 'n' git some Creamscicles oot o' th' deep freeze 'n' bring me an orange yin."

"Sheraton Crane Lopez Fitzgerald; seriously, who hasn't this woman been married to on this show?" McKenna muttered.

"She sounds like a really low rent hotel chain," Felicity mused as she ran back into the room and began distributing the popscicles.

"So is Kay a ghost or what?" Brandon asked in confusion.

"I'm…not sure," McKenna said, blinking at the screen.

"Ah think tis aye th' wee angel lassie 'n' she juist looks lik' Kay," Mrs. Mack offered helpfully.

"But didn't the angel girl go back to heaven?" Felicity asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Also, isn't Kay alive still?"

A fight broke out on-screen and Tommy sneered, "Miguel just needs to sack up. That guy sounds like a real whiny ass."

"Language!" Mrs. Mack said, popping his arm. "Bit, aye, he is a bawherr o' a wanker, isnae he?"

McKenna sighed dreamily, "Antonio is yummy though."

"Aye, he's sae forceful 'n' manly," Mrs. Mack said in a similar tone.

"Seriously?" Tommy asked them. "The guy's a jerk who stole his brother's girl then tried to kill him!"

"Yeah, Antonio seriously sucks," Brandon objected, showing some bro solidarity as the women around them were obviously getting it wrong.

"Yeah, but he looks good," McKenna said, still drooling at the image of the two men as they began to fight on-screen.

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"What do you mean?"

Tommy sighed and looked at the man in front of him, his face flushing as the anger left him, "Never mind, man; just forget I said anything."

"No, really man; what do you mean?" Brandon demanded, his face pale.

"I'm just being an asshole, ignore it," he told him.

"No, tell the truth, Tommy; are you my friend, or not?"

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"Have you noticed that all the really screwed up people on this show come from St. Lisa's? They should just quarantine that place or something," Brandon mused.

Tommy turned to McKenna, "Why don't they ever show Alastair's face?"

"Because he's the devil. Literally the devil," she told him.

"Aye, he's maist definitely th' spawn o' Hell; God hulp us," Mrs. McGregor said, crossing herself.

"Yeah, they probably just don't show him because they don't have enough left over in the costume budget for horns," Felicity shrugged.

"It all went into Ethan's wardrobe," Brandon snorted.

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"Probably not," he said, not looking him in the eye. "If I was your friend then…"

"Then what?" He demanded.

"Brandon, when was the last time you left your house to do something besides score?" He asked him. "Or do you just have your shit delivered now?" The other man blanched and Tommy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "Really?"

"The…pool guy usually bring me shit when he stops by," he admitted reluctantly. He looked up at Tommy through his eyelashes, "Did you mean what you said about me OD'ing and killing somebody?"

"Kind of, yeah," he told him.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" He asked quietly.

"Would you have listened?" He tossed back.

"Probably not," he mumbled then glowered at him, "So the only reason you and Ollie ever let me hang out with you was so I could get you high?"

"That and the fact that you threw a pretty good party," he joked.

"That's not funny, man," he said with a hurt expression.

"No, it's not," he admitted then cleared his throat. "Do you want to hear the truth, man? 100% no bullshit?"

"Yeah, I do."

Tommy took a centering breath before speaking, "The truth is that, yeah, we like you, you're a stand up guy, but Ollie and I never let ourselves get too attached to you because…" he stopped.

"Because?" The other man prompted him.

Tommy exhaled slowly, "Because you were basically a dead man walking and everybody knew it."

"Fuck," he flinched, looking like he'd been slapped.

"Sounds harsh but you asked for the truth," Tommy said helplessly.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" He mumbled.

Figuring it was now or never, Tommy decided to go for broke.

"Let's face it, Ollie and me, we party but you, man," he shook his head, "You're on a long, dark ride and the end of the road is dead ahead but the brakes are out. It's hard to get attached to somebody you know won't be there for much longer."

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"Why is she calling the hospital? That girl just got shot—shouldn't she be calling 9-1-1?" Brandon asked.

Tommy agreed, "And why does everybody on this show have to say everyone else's whole name. It's like they can't just say, 'Hi Doc!' They have to say, 'Hello Doctor Evelyn Russell'."

"If you keep picking it apart you destroy the magic that is Passions," McKenna said in exasperation.

"Aye!" Mrs. Mack agreed. "Tis called," she turned to Felicity, "Whizzit called agin?"

"Suspension of disbelief," she supplied.

"Aye, the…kicked oot o' disbelief thing."

"'Are you a whore, too?'" Brandon crowed, "I love Aunt Irma! HAH!"

"Didn't that lady used to be on the Jeffersons?" Tommy asked squinting at the small screen. "You know, seriously, this TV sucks. Remind me to pick up a big screen at the mall later."

"For the kitchen?" McKenna asked incredulously. "Where are you going to put it?"

"We'll find a place, trust me," he said, waving her off. "We'll mount it to the wall or something."

"A bigger telly wid be crakin'," Mrs. McGregor admitted, "'n' yer da cuid see a' o' thaim scrolly bits at th' bo'em o' th' screen while he watches th' news ower his mornin' cuppa."

"Exactly," Tommy agreed. "Really, it would be for dad's benefit, not ours."

"Right," McKenna said roundly.

"Guid point, aye," Mrs. McGregor agreed, choosing not to acknowledge their sarcasm as long as it meant her getting a bigger TV in which to enjoy her 'stories'. "Ye pick up th' tellybox 'n' ah will hae Jamie come up tae th' hoose tae dae th' electricals 'n' things."

"Ivy annoys me," Felicity said as she slurped on her cherry Creamsicle, "Although she and Julian do have this definite love/hate thing going on that's kind of intriguing. They should invite Dr. Phil to come on this show for a guest appearance or something because these people need it."

"They could definitely use some therapy, especially the guy who's the son of Satan. Talk about daddy issues," Tommy agreed, avoiding the look of amusement McKenna was directing towards him.

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Brandon just stood there, still as stone, as he absorbed what the other man just told him.

"I'm sorry," Tommy said, shifting uncomfortably as he hitched his thumb towards the door. "Look man, I have to go check on the girls but you're welcome to sleep it off in here. Just, um, just lock up when you're done."

He didn't bother waiting for an answer, choosing instead to make a quick exit as he headed towards the others down the hall.

"Tommy?"

He froze, turning slowly towards the other man, "Yeah?"

"Can I, um…" Brandon swallowed. "Can I stay with you guys?"

"Until the storm clears?" He asked in confusion.

"No, I mean…" he took a shuddering breath, "Um, for a few days maybe? Uh, my mom is on some kind of cruise and," he licked his lips, "Um, my place is kind of, uh, not really where I want to be right now."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there's a lot of, um, 'party favors' left over from last night and I don't want to…" He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck then looked up, his eyes swimming with unshed tears, "I don't want to die, man, and I don't want to do this any more."

"Okay," he said quietly.

The other man approached him and pulled him into a tight hug, "I don't want to be a punchline, I just don't, but I don't know what to—" He pulled away slightly to look at him, his cheeks flush with humiliation, "I don't want to lay this at your door but I don't know what to do anymore and I need help. If I try talking to my dad about it then-"

"I got you, man; don't worry about it," he said patting him on the back before releasing him. "You can just stay with me until we figure it out."

"Thanks," he said, his cheeks ruddy with embarrassment.

"You should go lie down while I go talk to McKenna, okay?" He told him.

"Yeah," he said, turning to leave before stopping to look at him. "I'm not a junkie or anything though, you know that right?"

"Yeah," Tommy said although, truth be told, he wasn't sure if he meant it.

"I'm not," Brandon stressed. "I mean, I know that when somebody says they can stop anytime, it really means they can't, but I can quit. I'm just—" he looked down at the floor again, "I'm just not sure I want that kind of temptation around right now; you know, hair of the dog, so I thought that maybe I should—"

"Like I said, I got you," Tommy said with a nod. "Go sleep it off, okay?" He grinned at him, forcing himself to relax, "You might smell better but you still look like shit."

"Yeah," he chuckled sheepishly, "Yeah, I feel like shit, too. I'll just…" he said motioning towards the bedroom.

"Sure, man; goodnight," he said with another easy smile as he watched his friend shut the door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Tommy's smile faded as well, "Fuck," he muttered.

Reluctantly, he continued to the end of the hall to knock on the girls' door.

"Come in!" Felicity called out.

He walked in and smiled. Felicity was wearing the blue sundress he brought her while McKenna found the denim and patchwork dress his mom used to wear while she was painting or working in the flower beds around the property. It still had splashes of paint here and there but it was clean and dry, plus it fit, so that was a bonus, he supposed. The two of them were sitting on the bed giggling as they played an old game of Candyland they'd dug up from God knows where.

Just like the dress McKenna wore, he hadn't seen that game in years. He felt his chest swell with emotion for a second as he watched them play before reality set in.

"Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a minute?" He asked McKenna.

"Why? What's up?" She asked, looking up from the board.

"It's kind of, um…" he paused, tilting his chin towards Felicity.

"You and I both know you're going to tell me later anyway so you might as well just say it," Felicity said, rolling her eyes at him.

"She's got a point," McKenna said wryly. "Out with it, Merlyn; we don't have all day."

He tightened his lips before speaking, "I need to head over to Brandon's to clean up a little and get him some stuff."

"Why?" She asked dubiously. "I thought he was leaving?"

"Uh, he can't," he told her reluctantly.

She gave him a warning look, "Tommy…"

"I know, okay," he said quickly, "but he's in a bad headspace and he needs to dry out a little."

"Not around Felicity, he doesn't," she said firmly, sounding more like his mother than she knew.

Especially in that dress.

He squirmed uncomfortably, "Look, it's just for a few days," he said defensively.

"You're gonna blow it, you know that right?" She asked with hard eyes. "You asked me to help you and I'm telling you, you're making a mistake."

"I realize that…" he began.

"What about Felicity, huh?" She challenged. "Where is she supposed to go while Brandon 'dries out a little', because she sure as hell doesn't need to be around that! And what about Mrs. Mack, huh? You know she's going to tell your dad—"

"I can make sure—"

"No, you can't! Felicity—!"

"I'm right here!" Felicity said glaring at them both. "I may be younger than you but I'm smarter than both of you put together so you can stop acting like I'm invisible or something!"

They both stopped to look at her in surprise.

"I also know what booze smells like, and I know you don't want me to be around Brandon, but I'm not a baby," she told them. "I won't break or freak out or anything just from hearing you guys talk about stuff, I promise."

"Sorry," McKenna said biting her bottom lip.

"Sunshine…" Tommy began.

"No," she told him. "Brandon's in trouble, right?"

"Yeah," Tommy said solemnly.

"And you're his friend, right?"

He swallowed, "Yeah."

"Then we have to help him," she said firmly.

"Sunshine, see, the thing is…" Tommy said slowly before faltering. "Um, the thing is, see—"

McKenna broke in, "What Tommy is trying to say is—"

"Brandon's on drugs," the younger girl said matter of factly.

"Yeah…" McKenna breathed.

"You knew?" Tommy asked in surprise.

"Doh," she huffed. "Like I said, I'm not a baby." Her eyes dropped to the quilt over the bed and she began to pick at it with her fingers, "Plus, he kind of looks like…"

"Like who?" McKenna asked curiously.

"Somebody she saw on TV, right?" Tommy supplied, his eyes meeting Felicity's.

"Yeah," she said, tossing him a grateful look.

McKenna looked between them curiously, "Okay, but he thing is, Malcolm told Tommy that—"

"That if I'm around the drugs and stuff I'll have to go back to Gotham," she supplied. "Tommy already told me. He also told me that he used to smoke pot but that he quit."

"Wow, okay," McKenna blinked. "But still…?"

"Still, nothing," Felicity said firmly. "You just said that Brandon's your friend."

"Yeah, he is," he admitted.

"And he's your friend, too," she said turning towards McKenna.

"Yeah, I guess," the other girl admitted reluctantly.

"Then you should go with Tommy to get rid of the drugs and stuff, call in a housekeeping service to clean up the rest of it, then pack a bag so he can stay here until he gets better," she said matter-of-factly.

Again they both looked to her in shocked silence.

"How did you…?" Tommy asked, his head tilted in confusion.

"TV," she answered. "That and common sense."

"TV," McKenna said slowly.

She nodded, "Uh huh. On TV they always flush the drugs down the toilet so the cops don't see them but that's really bad for the environment. Plus, it winds up in the septic tank so, logically, they could still find it if they wanted to. Still, if I were you, I'd flush it anyway then get rid of the booze or tell the cleaning service to have it carted off. Just tell them you have someone in recovery then offer to pay extra to keep it discreet. I'm sure Brandon has a credit card or something you can use so Malcolm doesn't find out, right?"

"Good…thinking," Tommy said as he and McKenna stared at her. "How…?"

"Young and the Restless," she told him. "Katherine lost all her money and fell off the wagon but then Jill got her into rehab even though they're archenemies." She shrugged, "Mrs. Mack has a lot of stories."

"This kid has seriously got to get out more," McKenna said, looking up to where Tommy was still gaping at her.

He shook his head as if to clear it, "But how can McKenna and I both go? We can't leave you here by yourself."

"I'm old enough to know better than to eat the bleach under the sink, jeez!" She said, rolling her eyes again. "I'll stay here and watch TV while Brandon sleeps upstairs then wait for you guys to come back."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," McKenna told her.

Felicity scowled, "Tommy needs someone to help him and, unless you want me to go there instead, someone needs to keep checking on Brandon to make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit or whatever."

"TV right?" Tommy asked her with a grimace.

She nodded, "Plus, you can't even get food in your mouth without dropping it on your shirt so you need someone there to make sure you don't miss anything. McKenna wants to be a cop so she can use this as kind of a practice run."

"A practice run?" The other girl asked. "A practice run for what?"

"Turning a place over and looking for drugs like on Law & Order," she told her.

"Seriously, how much TV does this kid watch anyway?" The older girl asked him.

"A lot," he admitted. "But what about Mrs. Mack?"

"I can handle Mrs. Mack," she said easily. "If you guys aren't back in a couple of hours I'll just hang out with her and say you guys are watching a movie with a bunch of naked girls in it or something."

"Don't tell her that!" He growled.

"Why not? She'd believe it after seeing your t-shirt collection, plus she'll be so busy fussing about you guys finding Jesus that she won't even check to make sure you're really upstairs in your room."

"Again, she has a point…" McKenna admitted.

"Not all of my shirts are like that. I mean, in case you didn't notice I happen to be wearing a Green Day t-shirt, thank you," he muttered uncomfortably. "No naked anything; just a bunch of punks wearing eyeliner while they pretend to be the Clash."

"Whatever," Felicity told him. "You two go get his wallet and head to his place. In the meantime, I'm going downstairs to watch Oprah," she said as she got off the bed and headed to the door.

As she left, the other girl turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "Felicity is a little scary."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed and grimaced as he looked down the hall through the open door, "I guess I'll go get his wallet."

McKenna nodded as she got up to follow, "Yeah, and while we're at it, we should get Brandon to spring for a swing set or something because that kid really needs to go outside to play every once in a while."

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The credits began to roll as Brandon got up from his chair to stretch, "Okay, are we going to the mall now or what?"

"Yeah, we can take the SUV that way we can all fit comfortably and have enough room in the back for the TV," Tommy said, tossing his popsicle wrapper in the trash.

"Ye be canny driving aroond wi' th' girls, dae ye hear me, Tommy Merlyn?" Mrs. McGregor warned. "Ah will hae yer lugs boxed if ye git anither speedin' ticket, especially wi' wee Felicity in th' motor wi' ye. 'N' ye better wear yer seat belts as weel."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed as they all filed out of the room.

"What are 'lugs' and why is she threatening to put yours in a box?" Brandon asked in confusion.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I just agree and keep moving."

"Lugs are ears and she just threatened to smack him upside the head if he gets another speeding ticket but that's okay because, if he does get a ticket, I can just hack the SCPD server and fix it," Felicity told them before skipping ahead to join McKenna.

"Can she really do that?" He asked Tommy in surprise as he stared after her.

"Yup," Tommy said with a proud grin. "She hacked the FBI when she was seven."

"Seriously?" He said, his eyes following the girls as they walked out of the front door. "Shit."

"Yeah."

Brandon grinned, "Felicity is awesome."

"She really is," he agreed.

"Can I borrow her some time?" He asked hopefully.

"No," Tommy said, punching him on the arm. "Get your own genius; that one's mine!"

"Now that's just selfish," he said rubbing his shoulder as they shut the front door behind them. "Hey, do you think Ethan shops at Banana Republic or what?"

"I have no idea."

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A few hours later, both he and McKenna returned to the pool house where Brandon was watching Felicity as she laughed and danced barefoot in the puddles that had gathered on the deck.

As McKenna slipped off her sandals to join her, Tommy walked up the steps to sit beside his friend on the porch swing, "Hey."

"Hey," Brandon said, not meeting his eyes. "Did you get everything?"

"Yeah, wasn't as bad as we thought it would be," he told him as he held out his card. "Your 'guests' cleaned out most of it and the rest we flushed. We waited around for the cleaning crew then told them to lock up when they were done."

"Thanks, man," he said, shoving the credit card into his pocket. He looked at him uncertainly, "Do you need me to clear out now?"

He took a deep breath, thinking about it, "No," he said at last, "Felicity wants you to stay so, as far as I'm concerned, you can have one of the guest rooms for as long as you need. Just don't fuck up, okay?"

"I won't fuck up," he promised him.

"Not here you won't," Tommy told him.

"Because of Felicity," he nodded.

"Because I got rid of my stash and gave it to Ollie," he corrected. "If you want to get high you have to go over to his house because I'm dry."

"That and because of Felicity," he said again.

"That and because, yeah, if you fuck up in front of Felicity, McKenna and I will kick the ever livin' shit out of you," Tommy said gruffly.

"She's a nice kid," Brandon told him quietly. He nodded to the girls who were laughing as they splashed water at each other, "I went downstairs after my nap and she gave me some aspirin and brought me a sandwich from the main house. She said she used to do it when her mom would get sick, too."

"Yeah," Tommy breathed, his eyes fixed on a happy and smiling Felicity.

"Ollie said her mom was a crack whore or something."

"Ollie talks too damn much," Tommy said darkly. He looked to Brandon, "Do me a favor and don't say that stuff in front of her, okay?"

"I wouldn't," he promised then added quietly, "Believe me, I know what that's like." He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, "For the record though, Ollie wasn't saying it to be mean or anything; it was just something he mentioned in passing."

"Ollie never *means* to fuck up, he just does it."

"True," Brandon agreed. "He really is sorry though."

"Look, if Ollie wants to sack up and come to me like a man, fine," he told him. "But I meant what I said; I don't care anymore. If he wants to be with Laurel, I'm cool with it."

"Gotcha," he agreed. "But is it okay if I call him later and tell him that?"

"Do what you want," he shrugged. "You can even invite him and Laurel to the party McKenna and Felicity are planning for me."

"Party?" He asked in surprise. "But I thought…?"

"Party, not *party*," Tommy said wryly. "As in a 'pool party' where we all go swimming and cook burgers and stuff on the grill."

"Oh," he said nodding slowly. "Ollie's gonna hate that."

"Yeah, well, he'll deal," he snorted.

"I just meant the 'pool' part," Brandon told him. "You know how he feels about his hair."

The two men stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Ow, oh God, don't make me laugh," Brandon begged him. "Hangover."

"Whatever, man," he chuckled and watched Felicity squeal and point as a rainbow appeared overhead.

"Do you think you guys will work it out eventually?" Brandon asked him, also looking up at what the girls were pointing to. "You know, the Laurel thing?"

"Yeah, man," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Eventually; always do." He looked offered him a reassuring look, "Everything's gonna be okay, I promise."

"Yeah," Brandon said quietly as they leaned back on the swing and watched as the sunshine began to peek through the clouds once more.


End file.
